


Out of my Head

by blakefancier



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being honorably discharged from the military, Steve follows in his mother's footsteps and becomes a nurse. He's hired by a private mental healthcare facility and that's where he meets Howard Stark, a patient who is much more than meets the eye. Howard says he's not supposed to be there, that he's being railroaded by his business partner. Steve has to decide if that's the truth or just another part of Howard's paranoia. Either way, he's falling for the guy, and he knows that's wrong.</p><p>This story has a nurse/patient relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of my Head

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this story for the Marvel Big Bang and since I'm super impatient and have insomnia anyway, I decided to post it now. Yay!
> 
> Here is a link to the art by [amoralambiguity](http://amoralambiguity.livejournal.com/163073.html).

Steve loved working the nightshift, the only sounds the ticking of the clock behind him, the whirr of the computers, and the normal creaks of a settling building. He closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders, letting the tension ease from his body. It felt good to relax, if only for a moment.

A very short moment, because a second later he heard the whisper-soft sound of clothes rustling and bare feet slapping gently against the floor. He opened his eyes and stifled a groan as he caught sight of a very familiar form making its way towards the nurse's station.

"You're not supposed to be out of bed, Mr. Stark," Steve said, raising an eyebrow. Since Steve started working at the facility two months ago, Stark had made it his mission to annoy the living hell out of him.

Stark leaned against the desk and gave a careless shrug. "I couldn’t sleep. I thought I could watch some TV." He certainly looked exhausted: there were dark circles under his eyes, his pajamas were rumpled, and his hair stuck out in unruly spikes. More telling was that the carefully written equations that usually decorated his forearms were smeared and unreadable.

"You know it's against the rules." Not that Stark cared about rules. Ms. Carter, the facility's head nurse, warned Steve that if you gave Stark an inch, he'd take a mile. "If you need help sleeping, I could call the on-call doctor to see if I can give you a sleeping pill." 

Stark made a face; Steve had never met anyone who hated medication quite as much as Stark. He didn’t even like taking aspirin. "C'mon, just for a half hour? I'll give you a million dollars."

Steve didn't roll his eyes. "You don't have a million dollars."

"I used to have a million dollars," Stark said, his mouth twisting bitterly.

Steve ignored a stab of pity. Stark used to have billions of dollars, a highly regarded company, and a family who, at least, pretended to love him. Then, six years ago, he was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, and his life fell apart. Still, there were worse places to be shunted off to than a private facility in Westchester. But Steve supposed that was a small comfort. "Would you like me to call the doctor, Mr. Stark?" 

Stark shifted uncomfortably and bit his bottom lip. "Please let me stay up. Please? I've been having nightmares."

"If I break the rules for you, I'd have to break them for everyone." 

"C'mon, Cap—"

"I told you not to call me that," Steve said sharply, getting to his feet.

Stark took a few startled steps back, his eyes widening, shoulders hunching with tension. "S-Sorry." 

Steve remembered, suddenly, that Stark had been abused as a child. "No, I'm sorry," he said, gentling his tone and relaxing his body. "I shouldn't have snapped at you." 

Stark shrugged, still tense. "So can I? Stay up, I mean."

He shook his head. "Go back to bed, Mr. Stark." 

"But—"

"Good night." Steve gave him a firm look and Stark rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," He pivoted on the balls of his feet and headed back to his room.

Steve drew a deep, shaky breath, and let it out slowly.

*****

"So, how's the new job," Sam asked a few days later at lunch. "You coping alright?" 

"What? Are you my therapist now?" Steve bit into his hamburger and chewed slowly, giving the tension in his body time to ease.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "I don't know. Do you need me to be?"

Steve wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a drink from his Coke, ignoring the question. He had enough of talking to people about the past, now he wanted to concentrate on the future.

"If you do, you know I'd listen, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Steve said. "I'm fine, Sam. I'm great. Work's swell. Thank you again for the letter of recommendation." He closed his mouth with a snap; he was babbling. 

Sam waved away Steve's comments. "It was the least I could do." 

"Hey, give yourself more credit than that. You're the only friend I have who's supported me through all this. Everyone else thinks I should have been able to shake it off and move on."

"Yeah, well, I'm the only one of your friends who isn't in the military. Or SHIELD." Sam picked up a fry and ate it. "Your mom would be proud of you, you know. For following in her footsteps."

He shifted in his seat, his face flushing. "Well, it was the least *I* could do after all that happened." 

Sam glared at him. "Now who's not giving himself enough credit?"

Steve felt a pang of overwhelming regret and sadness. "I just-- I should've—" 

"No. Steve, no. It wasn't your fault." 

"It was my team, Sam. *Mine*. So if it wasn't my fault, then whose was it?"

"Does it have to be anybody's fault?"

"Forty people died," he said, too loudly; people were looking at them. 

Sam grabbed his wrist. "You were told it was clear." 

"I should have checked. I—" His voice broke and he pressed his lips together.

"Bad things happen, Steve, shitty things happen. And sometimes, it's no one's fault. Sometimes, it's just the way it is. Sometimes there's nothing we can do."

Steve shook his head, because he should have been able to do *something*. That was his job. He took a deep breath. "So how are things with you? How's your job?"

Sam snorted at the blatant change of subject. "I'm overworked and underpaid, but that's the life of a social worker." 

"You love it," Steve said.

"It's not about loving it or hating it. I just can't see myself doing anything else." Sam shrugged. 

He smiled at that. "How are your parents?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Wondering when I'm dragging your sorry ass over for Sunday dinner." 

"Tell them in a couple of months. I… I still need to get settled." He stared down at his burger.

"Alright," Sam said gently. "But not too long or I won't be able to stop my mom and her friends from dropping by your place and fussing over you."

Steve shuddered at the thought. 

*****

"What are you reading?" 

Steve looked up from his book, startled, as Stark stood in front of him, rocking on the balls of his feet, hands jammed into the pockets of his trousers. "What are you doing out here?"

"Someone left the door open." Stark gestured to the door and Steve narrowed his eyes. No one else had used the outside break area all morning and Steve *knew* he'd closed the door behind him. 

"You should go back inside, Mr. Stark." Steve closed his book and got to his feet, ready to escort Stark back inside.

"No. Hey, c'mon. I'm not trying to run away. This time. I'm just..." Stark sat on the bench. "I'm just sitting here, talking to you. So, the Foundation series, huh? Yeah, my kid loves those books. Never read them myself though."

Steve put a gentle hand on Stark's shoulder. "You don't have in and out privileges. Not without an escort."

"I'm not doing anything wrong." Stark's voice was soft and desperate. "Besides, you're here. You're my escort. Please, Steve? Come *on*, I'm going crazy in there." His mouth twisted into a smile.

"I'm on break." Steve sighed and fought the urge to rub his temples; he could feel a headache coming on.

"So, I'll sit here quietly."

"I could carry you in." 

"I think that would be a violation of my patient rights." Stark smiled and gripped Steve's wrist. "Please?"

Steve let out a huff of annoyance and flopped down on the bench. "Five minutes."

"Five minutes." Stark nodded and slid closer to Steve. "So, is it a good book? Can I borrow it when you're done?"

"If I don't get fired first," Steve muttered, which made Stark laugh. 

*****

Steve tossed and turned, his eyes feeling gritty and hot from exhaustion. He sighed and got out of bed, stumbling though the dark house and down the stairs to the basement. He taped his hands and went a few rounds with the punching bag, until his body was heavy with fatigue and his hands ached. 

Then he unwrapped his hands and trudged back upstairs, wiping the sweat off his face with his t-shirt. As soon as he stepped off the top step into the kitchen, he froze, his body tensing with alarm.

"At ease, soldier," said a deep voice, and the lights came on.

He blinked rapidly, and went to the sink for a glass of water, ignoring the man sitting at the kitchen table. "What do you want, Fury?"

"To see how you're doing."

"In the middle of the night?" Steve sipped his water, turned, and leaned against the counter. "After breaking into my house?"

Fury shrugged. "I'm a busy man, Cap. This is the only time my dance card was free."

"Don't call me 'Cap'." 

"It's who you are!" Fury smacked his palm against the table and Steve flinched.

"No, it's who I was! I'm not that guy anymore. I'm just Steve Rogers, psychiatric nurse now." 

"You'll never be just anything, Cap—Steve. And you know it." Fury took a deep breath. "We need your help." 

"No." He finished his water and set the glass on the counter.

"Steve, please. We—"

"No!" Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "You've got Bradley for your special ops team. He's a good guy, a great soldier, and an even better leader. Better than I could ever be."

"That's not true," Fury said softly.

"It is. It is true. I broke, Nick. I broke myself. And I don't want to put the pieces back together." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I’m done. I'm done with guns and secrets and… and… killing."

"That was an accident." Fury got to his feet and walked over to Steve. "You know that was an accident."

"Tell that to those people's families. Tell that to—" Steve swallowed hard. "I like what I do now. I'm helping people put themselves back together."

"You're babysitting rich bastards who can't find their asses with both hands and a map." 

Steve clenched his jaw. "Get. Out."

Fury shook his head and snorted. "You know where to find me when you get bored. Oh, and call Barnes. Your boyfriend's been pathetic without you." 

He waited until he heard the door close behind Fury, then he sank to the floor, burying his face in his shaking hands. "God," he said, his voice thick with tears. "God, please, I can't. I can't." 

*****

Steve sat on the bench in the break area, his cellphone in hand, staring at the number on the screen. His mouth was dry, his hands trembled, and he felt sick to his stomach. He took a breath and scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. Then before he could stop himself, he hit the call button. 

He brought the phone to his ear, eyes closed.

His call went straight to voicemail: he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. "Bucky, hey," he said. "It's me. Steve. Um, Fury said you wanted to talk to me. So, call me, okay? I… I'll talk to you soon."

Steve disconnected the call, shoved his cell in his pocket and went inside. When he walked into the TV room, Peggy gave a sigh of relief.

"There you are. I've been looking for you."

"I was on break," he said. "What's going on?"

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pursed her lips. "Mr. Stark's in the art room and he won't come out. I need you to coax him into the dining room for lunch." 

"Why me?" Peggy arched her eyebrow and he sighed. "Yeah, alright. I'll see what I can do." 

"At least get him to eat a few protein bars. I'd hate to have to call in Fennhoff." She made a face and he laughed; no one liked Fennhoff, but he was Stark's private doctor.

He gave a half-hearted salute and headed to the art room. 

As soon as Steve walked in, he knew it was bad. Stark was huddled in a corner, his body vibrating with tension, his gaze snapping from one direction to another, his breathing coming fast and hard, his forearms bare. Steve knew he didn't like to be touched when he was having auditory hallucinations. So, Steve sat in front of him, giving him a visual point to concentrate on.

"What are they saying, Mr. Stark?" he asked gently. 

Stark shook his head. "I know they're not real. I know the voices aren't real." 

"It's still unnerving though, isn't it? What are they saying?"

Stark squeezed his eyes closed. "That I'm not getting out of here. That I should just… just slit my wrists again or hang myself or… or… drink bleach because I'm never getting out of here. I'm never going home."

"But you're not going to listen to them, are you? Because they're not real." Steve was tempted to call for Peggy; she was better at this than he could ever be. 

"They're trying to make the numbers ugly." Stark opened his eyes and he looked so wounded. Bleak.

"Numbers?"

"The numbers, the numbers are everywhere!" Stark rubbed his eyes, then stared down at his forearms like he was reading something on them. Something only he could see. "I’m not crazy! Some people see emotions and music and words in colors, but not me. I'm an engineer. I see… I see numbers. Life is numbers. Colors are numbers and… and music is… is equations in the air."

"Okay," Steve said, trying not to sound confused. 

"God, that’s why I keep my trap shut! No one believes me. They think I'm crazy. I'm not crazy!" He let out a sob and said, quietly, "No matter what the voices say."

"You said my eyes were sevens," Steve blurted out suddenly, remembering the first time they'd met. 

Stark laughed, broken and bitter. "Lucky sevens. Yeah, and your mouth is a perfect infinity."

For some reason that made Steve blush. "Do you need me to call a doctor? Or Peggy?"

"Nurse Ratchet? God, no." Stark took a deep, shuddery breath. "I just want to go to my room and sleep."

"You need to eat something." 

"I'll choke down a couple of those damn protein bars, but only if they're the chocolate chip kind."

Steve opened his mouth to remind Stark that he wasn't allowed chocolate, then stopped. "That sounds fair, Mr. Stark." 

Stark smiled. "You can call me Howard, you know. Once you've seen a guy have a mental breakdown, it seems a little weird to keep calling him 'mister'." 

"Okay, Howard." Steve got to his feet and offered Stark—Howard a hand up. After a slight hesitation, Howard took his hand and Steve helped him to his feet. "If you want, I could get you some paper."

"What?" Howard blinked at him in confusion.

"For your… math." He gestured to the writing.

Howard crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Paper is easy to misplace. This skin's mine."

*****

Steve's first meeting with Howard went something like this.

He was standing in the hallway, trying not to look overwhelmed, when a patient who was passing by suddenly stopped.

"Oooh," the man said, eyes bright, hair a messy tangle. "A military man."

Steve started and blurted out, "What?"

"Marines? No! No, no, no!" The man waved his hands. "Let me guess. Not Marines, the Army. Yeah." Then the man tilted his head. "Sergeant?"

"No, I—" 

"Of course not." The man walked over to him and gripped his bicep. "Captain. You were a captain."

"How did you know?" Steve said, his heart pounding in his chest. The man smiled and Steve finally recognized him. Stark. It was Howard Stark.

"I've spent my whole life around military men. Watching my father sell them weapons, selling them weapons of my own. I know a military man when I see one, Cap."

"Don't call me that," Steve said, his voice rough and Howard danced back a few steps. 

"Touchy." Howard slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. "God, look at you. You've got sevens in your eyes."

Steve blinked at him. "I have what?"

Howard frowned, his shoulders tensing. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"You said—" 

"Shut the fuck up," Howard snarled. "I didn't say a goddamn thing!" 

"Sorry." Steve held up his hands.

"Just stay away from me!" Stark turned and hurried down the hallway. 

*****

Steve hated days off, he felt listless, like there was something important he should be doing. He would spend all this time at work if he could, but Peggy was strict about enforcing time off.

He was stretched out on the couch, channel surfing, wondering if he should try reading instead, when there was a knock at the door. He frowned, feeling slightly uneasy, and got to his feet. He wasn't expecting any visitors today. 

He looked through the peephole, but whoever it was, was standing just outside the viewing range. His heart pounded in his chest and he grabbed a paperweight off the coffee table before opening the door. A familiar figure stepped into view and Steve dropped the paperweight. 

"Bucky?" he said, his voice soft and uncertain.

"Hey, Steve-o." Bucky smiled and slipped his hands into his pockets. "How's it going?"

"What are you doing here?" Steve winced at the tone, he didn't mean to sound so accusatory. 

Bucky's face went blank. "You called me."

"Three weeks ago." Steve picked up the paperweight. 

Bucky shrugged carelessly. "I was busy." He didn't say 'on a mission,' but Steve understood. 

"Oh. Um, come in," he said, herding Bucky inside. "Do you want something to drink? Coffee or a soda?"

"No, I'm good." Bucky sat down on the couch and looked around curiously. "Cozy."

Steve felt a surge of anger that he didn't bother hiding. "I like it."

Bucky blinked in surprise. "So do I, Steve. Geez, what's got your panties in a twist?"

No, of course he didn't get why Steve was upset. He never did. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing." 

"Why now? It's been three years!" Steve fought the urge to pace.

"I didn’t think you wanted to see me."

"You didn't—You were my best friend, Bucky! You were there when my dad skipped out on us. You were there when my mom died. I—" He swallowed hard. "My world was falling apart and I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there." 

"I'm sorry," Bucky said softly. "I didn't think you wanted me around. I didn't think you wanted any of us around." 

Steve slumped into a chair and rubbed his eyes. "When have I ever not needed you, Bucky?"

"You look like you're doing pretty good right now, Steve."

He laughed harshly. "Yeah, it sure looks like it, doesn’t it?" 

"Could be worse." Bucky smiled. "We could be in some goddamn cave in the middle of Afghanistan."

"Yeah, yeah, I guess there's that." He saw Bucky's smile falter and he knew what was coming. 

"Steve—" 

"You're dating Nat again," he said and Bucky's gaze shifted away from him.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"It's been three years, Buck. Three years of nothing. If that doesn't spell 'it's over,' I don't know what does." And, God, didn't that hurt.

"You know I love you, Steve. You know I do. And I always will." Bucky moved to Steve's side and touched his hair. "But I can't… This sort of life isn’t for me anymore. And you deserve a chance at normal. If anyone does, it's you."

Steve wanted to be angry. He wanted to rant and rave and tell Bucky that he was full of shit. But he was too damn tired to be angry anymore. "I love you, too," he said. "And I'm glad you and Natasha are giving it another chance." He smiled and it felt brittle, but Bucky didn’t seem to notice.

"I should go," Bucky said, taking a step back. "I've got a plane to catch in a few hours. I'll call you when I get back though, we'll have lunch."

"Yeah, that sounds great." It didn't hurt to lie, not really. Bucky was his best friend and Steve wanted him to be happy. 

*****

When he went into work the next day after Bucky 's visit, his knuckles were bruised and swollen and his body ached with exhaustion. All the guests—never call them patients, Peggy said— were sitting in the TV room, avidly watching some program.

"What are you guys doing?" he asked, hands resting on the back of the couch. Howard looked up at him and smiled.

"We're watching the Tonys—" Nathaniel's eyes widened in surprise, and he said, "Jesus, Steve, what happened to your hands?"

Before Steve could slide his hands in his pockets, Howard grabbed his wrists. "What did you do? Go one on one with a brick wall?" Howard's brow furrowed with worry.

"It's nothing, guys," he said, gently pulling out of Howard's grasp. "I just got a little too overzealous with the punching bag on my day off." 

Howard opened his mouth, but before he could say a thing, Jeffrey called out, "Hey, Stark, isn't that your wife?" He whipped his head around and Steve could see the tension in his body.

Steve looked too and, yep, that was Maria Stark, looking splendid in a blue, low cut dress, big diamonds shining in her ears. She was grinning for the camera and on her arm was an up-and-coming actor whose name Steve couldn't remember and whose movies he'd never seen. 

"Wow, looks like she's moved on to bigger and saner things," Jeffrey said, because he could be as big an asshole as Howard sometimes.

"Fuck you, Jeff." Howard's voice was harsh.

"Hey, don't blame me because your wife's the biggest slut in New York."

Howard lunged for Jeffrey and the only reason Steve managed to grab him before anything happened was because of proximity. "Let me go, Steve! Let me go! I'm going to fucking rip your balls off and shove them down your throat, Jeff, you fucking psycho bastard!"

The rest of the staff poured into the room and Jeffrey retreated to the far wall, looking pale and scared. 

"That's enough, Howard!" Steve tightened his grip as Howard struggled harder. "I mean it! I'm going to ask the doctor if we can sedate you if you don't calm down now!" Howard went lax, as if he were a puppet that suddenly had its strings cut. Steve kept a grip on him, though, just in case. Steve glanced at Peggy, and she gestured for him to continue. "I want you to apologize, Jeffrey. You know we don't use that sort of language here." 

Jeffrey crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, Stark. I didn't mean to call your wife a slut."

Howard trembled in his arms, but didn't say anything.

"Good, now go to your room. Your TV privileges have been suspended for a week." Steve glared away any protest. "Go on. The doctor will be by to see you in a few minutes." Only when Jeffrey was safe in his bedroom, did Steve let Howard go. 

Howard angrily straightened his clothes. "You don’t need to say anything, I know! Violence isn't tolerated here. No TV for a week for me. No dessert, no video games, no whatever the fuck outing we were going to take. Like I fucking care! Can I go to my room now?"

"Yeah." Steve gestured for one of the orderlies to escort Howard. 

Once the other patients were settled, Peggy walked over to him. "You handled that well."

He shrugged. "I was in the military; I'm used to handling hotheads. Jeffrey was out of line though, Peggy. If I were Howard, I would have probably tried to do the same thing." 

"Maybe. But this is a safe space for these men and Howard knows that violence won't be tolerated." 

"Yeah," he said softly.

She smiled gently and put a hand on his arm. "Come on, you haven't even clocked in yet." 

*****

Steve knew that he should leave it alone, let Howard lick his wounds in peace. But Steve knew what it felt like to be left behind while everyone else had moved on. So on his break, he tapped on Howard's door. 

"Come in."

Steve walked into Howard's room and closed the door behind him.

Howard was sitting in his bed, a Sharpie in one hand, drawing boxes along his arm with a single-minded intensity. "Have you come to tell me how disappointed you are, too?" 

"No." Steve sat on the bed and watched him. "I wanted to see if you were alright."

"Yeah, sure. I'm peachy keen." Howard laughed until a sob escaped his throat.

"Howard." He touched Howard's knee.

"She's not a slut." Howard looked at Steve, his eyes shining. "She's not. It's just been five years. I've been here for five fucking years. I don't expect her to wait for me. I don't…" He wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath. "I know she's had other boyfriends since I've been here."

"You don't have to explain it to me, Howard." Steve understood, of course he understood. "You love her. You want her to be happy." 

"Yes. That's it." Howard dropped the pen on the bed, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked away. "I'm not upset because she's moved on, no matter what Fennhoff or the others say. I just… I miss her. Steve, I miss her so much."

"I know. God, Howard, I really do know." 

Howard glanced at him. "You, too, huh?"

Steve nodded and rubbed his knuckles.

"Well aren't we two sad bastards." Howard sniffled. "If I had any booze, I'd offer you some."

"If you had any booze, I'd have to confiscate it." Steve pulled a candy bar from his pocket and tossed it into Howard's lap. "Don't say I never gave you anything."

Howard flashed him a smile. "Thanks." 

Steve shrugged and patted his knee.

*****

It wasn't a bad job, all things considered. The facility was a converted mansion on a large estate in northern Westchester county; some rich guy had donated his family home to the Board of Directors when the old facility had burned to the ground. It was beautiful, peaceful, and Steve loved it. 

Steve knew the patients… the *guests* loved it too. They got the individual care they needed to move on after a few months, go back to their old lives, or create new ones. Except for Howard. He seemed to be the exception to the rule and Steve wanted to know why.

"Why doesn't Howard have a treatment plan?" Steve asked Peggy a few days after the incident between Howard and Jeffrey. 

She looked up from her paperwork, a frown on her face. "He does."

"No, he doesn't. His file has lots of notes about treatment options and medications I've never heard of, but there doesn't seem to be any movement towards reintegrating him into his old life." 

Peggy sighed and rubbed her temple. "Leave it alone, Steve." 

He lifted his chin and gave her a stubborn look. "Why doesn't he—"

"Because that's what's best for him. And if you know what's best for you, you'll leave it alone!" 

Steve blinked in surprise; that wasn't what he expected to hear. "How can you say that?"

"How? Because I'm trying to protect him, you dolt!" She looked around and lowered her voice. "I've worked here for four years, Steve. Do you know how many times his wife and son have visited him, hell, called him on the phone even?"

Steve shook his head.

"None. No visits, no calls, no letters, not even an email. They don’t participate in his life or his treatment. His legal guardian is an old business partner, Obadiah Stane. Mr. Stane is the only one who does visit." She frowned at that. "I'll let you form your own opinion of Mr. Stane."

"So that means he's stuck here for the rest of his life?"

"Steve, his wife's moved on to greener pastures, his son is partying the days and nights away with his friends, if the tabloids are to be believed, and his business partner is off making billions of dollars with Mr. Stark's business."

"What's your point, Peggy?"

She looked around again. "I think you understand my point."

Steve did; Howard was too much trouble, so his family had sent him away. "That's not right." 

"No, it’s not. But I don't make the rules and neither do you." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Although, to be honest, he'd be right back here after a few months, even if there was a proper treatment plan." 

Steve wanted to argue with her pronouncement, but he couldn’t because she was right. Howard wasn't invested in his own treatment. "What about the weird medications?"

"The bottles are shipped from Stark Pharmaceuticals." She shrugged and turned back to her files. "Look, let's just get this paperwork done before dinner."

Steve narrowed his eyes, feeling uneasy. "Alright." 

*****

"Are you telling me you don’t miss it?" Sam asked as he opened one of the pigeon coops he kept on the roof of his apartment building, and fed the birds.

Steve, who was sprawled up on the lounge chair someone had left behind, shrugged. "You mean, do I miss the smog, the crowds, the unbearable noise?"

Sam grinned. "Yeah."

He smiled back. "Maybe, a little."

"Of course you do. You can't help it, you're a city boy." 

"I'm not exactly living in the middle of nowhere, Sam." Steve rolled his eyes. 

"Says you." Sam takes out one of his birds, strokes its feathers, and coos at it.

"Should I leave you two alone?"

"You're just jealous of our love. Isn't he, Ethel?" 

The pigeon cooed back at Sam and Steve laughed. "Sometimes I worry about you." 

"Yeah, well, the feeling's mutual." Sam put Ethel back in the coop. "So what are you doing for your birthday? If you don't have anything planned, my dad's congregation is throwing a Fourth of July barbeque. Or we could hang out." 

"I'd love to, but I promised my boss that I'd work that day."

"On your birthday?" Sam gave him an incredulous look.

He shrugged. "We're taking the guests down to the lake to watch the fireworks. It's supposed to be nice." 

"The guests." Sam snorted. "Seriously, that always cracks me up." 

"Yeah, me, too." He got to his feet and stretched. "Are you done? It's too hot to be out here."

"Yeah, I'm done." Sam slapped him on the back. "So, since you're skipping out on the barbecue, you have to come to Sunday dinner. I wasn't joking about my mom driving to Salem Center to make sure you're alright."

"Okay, okay, I'll be at Sunday dinner." Steve grinned at Sam and shoved him away gently.

*****

"I can't believe she's making us walk," Howard said, loudly, waving his hands in the air. "What, Nurse Ratchet, you couldn't borrow a horse and buggy from the neighbors? Is this torture? This is torture, right? I'm pretty sure the law states you can't torture us."

"Oh my God, Stark, shut up!" Nathaniel shot him an irritated look.

"You shut up, you two-bit hack." Howard groaned. "I think I'm getting a blister. A blister that's going to fester and I'll get gangrene and—" 

Steve sighed and put a hand on Howard's shoulder. "It's a mile and a half, Howard. You'll be fine."

"I really, really, won't." Howard gave him a hopeful look. "There's still time to call a taxi." 

"Come on, a little exercise is good for you." He grinned and squeezed Howard's shoulder. "It'll be fun." 

"Fun? You're crazier than Nathaniel." Howard smirked when Nathaniel flipped him off. 

Steve shook his head. "We'd better hurry or we'll get a horrible spot."

Howard snorted. "Oh, trust me, when we show up, people are going to give us a wide berth. They don't want to catch the crazy." 

*****

Howard was right; but at least that meant they got a good spot near the lake. He settled under a tree and Howard stretched out beside him.

"Damn, my feet are killing me." Howard pulled off his shoes and wiggled his toes.

"Then why didn't you wear sneakers?"

"Sneakers don't go with my outfit." Howard gestured to his slacks, button up shirt, and jacket; he must be hotter than hell. "Philistine." 

"Why are you wearing that anyway? It's the Fourth of July." 

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to be all over the Internet and gossip rags tomorrow. I want to look good."

Steve laughed. "You're cr—" He broke off and bit his lip.

"That's what they tell me." Howard leaned back on his elbows. "I fucking hate it here. If I were at home, I'd be in my workshop right now."

"Making something lethal?" he asked softly, making Howard smile.

"Actually, no." Howard glanced at him, and then looked up at the sky. "My grandfather built a lot of weapons for the war effort. Um, World War II, and he always said that the Fourth should be about celebrating life." He shrugged. "So, I'd look over his idea book, try to make something that would benefit society. In his honor."

"That's sweet, Stark," Nathaniel said, leaning over and smirking. "Did you and Paw-Paw share a special bond?" 

"Fuck off, dipshit."

Nathaniel opened his mouth and Steve gave him a stern look. "Do you want to go back, Mr. Richards? Because that can be arranged."

Nathaniel grumbled softly and moved away: Howard smiled.

*****

As the sky grew darker, the crowd quieted in anticipation. The fireworks display started slowly and Steve did his best not to flinch at the explosions, concentrating on the brilliant bursts of color.

Steve looked over at Howard, just to make sure he was all right, and was surprised by the expression on his face. Howard's eyes were opened wide, shining in delight, his lips parted, a small smile curling them. Steve had never seen Howard look like that before; he leaned over and asked, in the pause between explosions, "What do you see?" 

Howard turned to him. "Equations for velocity and trajectory. Chemical formulas. I'll show you. Listen!" 

Steve turned his head and Howard leaned in, whispering in his ear. He didn’t understand most of it, but it still sounded beautiful. It made his chest ache and his eyes sting, and he wanted to curl his arm around Howard's waist, feeling the warmth of another body. After awhile, he closed his eyes and just listened to Howard's warm voice settle over him.

He didn't open his eyes until Howard stopped speaking and pulled away, just a bit. He turned his head and looked into Howard's eyes; they were close enough that he could feel Howard's breath against his lips. "You really see all that?"

"Yes," Howard said, voice shaking.

"That's amazing."

Howard swallowed hard. "I still see sevens." 

Steve's face heated and he opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Howard pulled away and slipped on his shoes.

The next day, Peggy drew him aside and asked, bluntly, "Do you need a vacation?"

"What?" He blinked at her. "N-No."

"Are you sure? Because I was watching you and Mr. Stark last night."

His ears burned and he stared at the floor. "No, I don’t need a vacation."

"Good." After a moment, she touched his arm. "He's a very charming man, Steve, but remember where we are. You're in a position of authority."

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, his stomach clenching.

She stared at him for a moment, then said, "Alright. Rally the troops, it's time for their medication." 

Steve nodded and rushed away before she said anything else. He got everyone lined up and did his best to ignore Howard's efforts to catch his eye. He had to be professional; he couldn’t screw up another career by making a stupid mistake.

When Howard got to the front of the line, Peggy handed him a cup of water and his pills. Like always, he hesitated, before quickly slipping the pills into his mouth and draining the cup of water. He made to step aside, but Peggy said his name and gave him a pointed look.

"Oh, c'mon, are we really going to do this every day?" 

"Please," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Howard clenched his jaw and for just a moment, Steve thought he was going to rebel. Then he opened his mouth and even lifted his tongue. "Satisfied, Nurse Ratchet?"

"Yes, thank you." 

Howard gave her a dirty look and stormed off.

Steve fixed the scene in his mind as a reminder of the lives they were leading.  
The roles they played. 

It didn’t help. 

At night Steve dreamed of the look in Howard's eyes when he'd said 'I still see sevens.'

*****

Steve loved summer in all its glory: the hot, bright days melting into one another like a golden dream. He spent his lunch breaks outside, doing his best to avoid Howard and the hurt and confused looks. 

He sprawled out on to the grass, book in one hand, apple in the other, his shirt sticking to his back, the skin of his nose and cheeks feeling tight and hot. A shadow passed over him and he looked up, sighing deeply.

"You've been avoiding me," Howard said, settling next to him. "Why?"

Steve folded a corner of the page he was on and closed the book. "How do you keep getting out?"

"My question first."

He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Howard, you're a guest here and I'm a nurse. There are certain rules of conduct I need to follow." 

"I offended you." Howard touched his arm and said, softly, "I didn't mean to."

"You didn’t offend me." Steve pulled away gently.

"I'm not crazy."

"I know you're not."

"I'm not schizophrenic!" Howard touched his temple. "There's nothing wrong up here. Steve, I'm being drugged."

"Howard…." Steve had heard this before, they all had. It was a part of Howard's illness.

"The meds they give me, they're something that the bioweapons boys in R&D must have cooked up." Howard grabbed his arm. 

"So your business partner could get rid of you?" Steve kept his tone even and comforting. 

"So he could control me. So he could—" Howard stopped and took a deep breath. "But that's not the point. "

"What is the point?" 

Howard's mouth twisted into a frown. "Maybe I don't need another nurse. Maybe I… Fuck this." He scrambled to his feet and headed back towards the building.

Steve forced himself not to follow, but he couldn’t help asking, "Maybe what, Howard?"

Howard stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Maybe I need a friend." 

*****

The next day, Steve knocked on Howard's door. He heard a muffled 'go away' and so he knocked again. "Everyone's watching a movie, Howard."

A few seconds later, the door opened. Howard looked disheveled and grumpy. "I already know the dialogue to every goddamn Disney movie ever made. I even know the lyrics to the songs. Why the *fuck* would want to go to movie night? Unless, ooh, is it Cinderella?" He sneered. 

Steve smiled, amused. "Actually, I brought in a new movie." He held up the DVD case.

"Metropolis? You… " Howard snatched the case and stared at it in surprise. "That's my favorite movie."

"I know." Steve shuffled his feet. "They made popcorn. So… are you coming?"

Howard looked up at him. "Um, yeah. Yeah, I… Yeah." 

"Okay." Steve took the case back.

"Thank you," Howard said, quietly.

He shrugged, his cheeks flushing. "I was getting tired of Disney movies, too." 

*****

Steve met Obadiah Stane in late summer. 

*****

He rushed down the hallway back to the nurse's station; he was off in an hour and he still had a lot to do before he could clock out. He'd promised Bucky he would go out to dinner with him and Natasha, and while he wasn't looking forward to it, he couldn't cancel. Not again. 

Steve rounded the corner, right into someone coming out of Howard's room in a huff. He stumbled back a few steps, surprised by the impact, and the man—Obadiah Stane, there was a picture of him in Howard's file—hit Howard's door with a loud exclamation. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you all right, sir?" Steve tried to steady him, but Stane shoved his hands away. Howard's door opened a crack and Steve could see Howard watching.

"Get your fucking hands off me!"

Steve tried to look apologetic; since starting at the facility, he's learned how deal with rude and distraught family members. "Again, sir, I'm sorry." 

"Next time, watch where you're going or I promise you, you won't have a job." Stane straightened his clothes with quick, jerky movements.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Stane." Steve hunched his shoulders and looked cowed. _Jackass._

Stane sneered at him one last time, and headed to the exit.

Steve shook his head and looked at the slight crack of the open door. "Are you alright, Howard? Stane seemed… pretty angry."

"I’m fine," Howard muttered, his voice hoarse—he didn’t sound right at all. 

"What's wrong?" Steve slowly pushed the door open and Howard backed away quickly, turning away.

"Nothing."

But it didn't look like nothing; Howard's shoulders were tense. Steve took Howard by the upper arm, spun him around, and gasped in shock. "He hit you," Steve said, anger making his voice harsher than he meant it to be. 

"No, he didn't." Howard looked away, touching the bruise forming on his jaw. "I banged myself on the door." 

Steve made a skeptical sound. "I'm going to get Peggy and Dr. Fennoff."

"No!" Howard grabbed him by the wrist. "You can't! You can't do that, Steve!"

"Howard, I know you're scared, I know you… you might even feel ashamed, but Stane had no right to hit you."

"God, you're such a fucking idiot!" Howard glared at him. "Do you know what'll happen when you tell Fennhoff you think Obi hit me? He'll bring in Obi and they'll talk. Then they'll bring me in and we'll talk and in the end, you'll be out on your ass and nothing will change."

"That's not true," Steve said, putting an arm around Howard, trying to calm him.

Howard shoved him away. "It was true the last three times it happened!"

Steve blinked at him in surprise. "What?"

Howard shook his head and swallowed hard. "I was stupid and clumsy and it was an accident. I was distracted and I walked into the door. So will you, please, please, let it go?"

"How can I?" Steve gently touched the bruise. "He hurt you."

"If you accuse him of hitting me, he'll make sure the Board fires you. If you don't believe me, check the personnel files for Chang, Durant, and Harris." He grabbed the front of Steve's shirt; his eyes were wet. "Please don't give him a reason to send you away. I don’t have anyone else but you."

"Howard," Steve said, his chest aching, his eyes prickling with tears. "Okay. I won't say anything. But if you're lying about the others…"

'"I'm not." Howard let go of his shirt and took a step back. He was visibly trying to pull himself together.

"Sit down." He gestured to the bed and walked into Howard's bathroom. He ran a washcloth under cold water, and when it came back, Howard was sitting on the bed. "Put this on your jaw." When Howard did, he sat next to him. "So why was he so mad?"

Howard shrugged. "He doesn't like being outsmarted. Or denied. And I've been doing that for six years."

"What are you denying him?""

Howard slid his fingers under the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt and Steve could see the flash of a black line drawn across Howard's skin. "A piece of my legacy. One of the last precious things my grandfather left me."

"What's that?" Steve frowned; Howard was being purposefully vague. 

"The future." Howard grinned beatifically. "And he can't have it. Not ever."

*****

Steve's tie was on too tight, his shoes pinched, and he was standing in front of a Thai fusion restaurant despite the fact that he hated Thai and any sort of fusion cuisine. God, he hated how awkward he felt, like his clothes were too small for his body, like he was fourteen again, small and gawky, trying to hang out with the cool kids. 

He wanted to go back to his place—No, he wanted to go back to the facility. He wanted to check on Howard, talk movies with Nathaniel, maybe listen to Peggy complain about insurance forms. He wanted to sit in the TV room and pretend he didn’t feel like he belonged there.

Steve took a deep breath and took a step towards the entrance of the restaurant. Panic filled him suddenly and his chest grew tight. 

He couldn't, he just couldn't. Before he could change his mind, he turned and headed back to his car. He got in quickly and drove away. 

He clenched the steering wheel, his heart hammering in his chest. Let out a startled gasp, when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it quickly, shutting it off. He couldn't talk to Bucky right now. There was no way he could explain why he couldn't walk into that restaurant, not without hurting them both.

Steve considered going home, but the thought of sitting in his home, alone, made his eyes sting and his breath catch in his throat. He drove to work instead, sitting in the parking lot, staring up at the sky, remembering, suddenly, Howard's mouth against his ear, whispering softly, remembering the look of desperation in Howard's eyes from their conversation earlier. Chang, Durant, and Harris, Howard had said. It couldn't be true, but… but what if it was? It was obvious that Stane had hit Howard before. *Someone* had to have noticed.

There was only one way to find out. 

He shuddered and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Then he got out of the car and walked towards the entrance.

The guard waved him through with a smile and Steve nodded a hello and he knew he shouldn't feel nervous because he belonged here, but he was. He was terrified that he would get caught, that he would find something, that he *wouldn't* find something. But, God, it was better than thinking about anything else. It was better than thinking about that damn Thai fusion restaurant, and all the messages that Bucky was probably leaving on his voice mail. 

He ran a shaky hand through his hair and told himself to calm down. As he neared the nurse's station, Carol looked up from her novel and frowned "Steve, what are you doing here? I thought you were meeting friends for dinner."

"I was, but they had to cancel at the last minute." He smiled sheepishly. "Which is probably a good thing because I l didn't finish all my assignments when I left today. Don't tell Peggy?"

Carol chuckled and shook her head. "Don't worry, I think we've all done that."

"I just need to slip into Peggy's office for a few things. I'll only be a minute or two."

"Take your time. It's quiet tonight." 

"Thanks," he said, giving her another smile before heading into Peggy's office. He locked the door behind him, and tried to open the filing cabinet, but it was locked. He cursed softly and began looking for the key, but of course Peggy didn't leave it lying around. He finally had to grab a couple of paperclips and pick the lock. 

Peggy was meticulous in her filing, so he found them in record time. He wished he had a copy machine, but the damn thing made a hell of a lot of racket when it was turned on. He settled for writing down as much information as he could on them. Then he put the files back exactly how he found them.

Steve was just about to relock the cabinet, when he hesitated. After a moment, he pulled out Howard's file and flipped through it again. He wrote down the names of the medications Fennhoff had prescribed him, and the mailing address of his wife and son. 

When he stepped out of the office, Carol was standing, a flashlight in hand.

"Do you want me to do the bed checks, Carol? I don't mind." No one liked doing bed checks, but without them, some of the guests—Howard—would be up all hours of the night, roaming the facility. 

"If you don't mind." Carol handed him the flashlight.

"Naw, I don’t mind. Finish your book."

"Thanks, Steve." She saluted him and he saluted right back. 

Steve did the bed checks, leaving Howard's room for last. Instead of opening the door and leaning in, he entered Howard's room, closing the door behind him. Howard was buried under the covers, only the top of his head visible. "Howard," he whispered and Howard hummed softly in his sleep. "Howard."

"Mm, hm?" Howard stirred slightly.

Steve sat down on the bed, and ran a hand through Howard's hair. 

"Wha--?" Howard pulled the blankets down to his chin and blinked sleepily. "Steve? Is it morning?"

"No. No, it's not morning."

Howard rubbed his eyes and yawned. "What are you doing here then? I though you were driving down to the city to have dinner with friends." 

"Yeah, yeah, I tried, but I—" Steve's voice broke.

"Steve, are you okay?" Howard sat up and turned on the bedside light. "Jesus, what's wrong?" 

"Howard, I'm so tired. I'm so goddam tired of pretending that's everything's alright." His vision blurred and he closed his eyes. 

"Hey, hey, you're preaching to the choir, pal."

He opened his eyes. "I just want to feel like I belong somewhere again."

Howard looked at him sadly and touched his cheek. "You wanna tell me what happened? What's got you so broken up?"

"No." He sniffled and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Then he told Howard anyway. He told him about Afghanistan, about the civilians caught in the crossfire, about leaving the service in anger and disgust and how he and Bucky hadn't spoken in three years.  
"I can't do it, Howard. I can't pretend that everything's alright." 

"Damn straight you can't," Howard said, angrily. "And why should you have to? You needed him and he wasn’t there for you. He just left you to deal with all this shit yourself. He abandoned you." Howard cupped the back of Steve's neck and pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. "Fuck him. Fuck them all."

Steve let out a pained laugh; God, this was screwed up. "I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't—"

"Shut up. I want you here. I want you right here." Howard stroked the back of his neck and Steve shuddered, his breath hitching in his throat. "You belong right here." 

Howard didn't know how true that was. Steve shuddered and pulled away. "I should go. I… Carol will wonder where I am."

"Yeah," Howard said. "Okay. Will I see you tomorrow?"

He shook his head. "I got the weekend off. I'll see you on Monday." 

"Alright, I'll see you on Monday, then." Howard smiled at him, then turned off the lights and pulled the covers up. "Good night, Steve." 

Steve stroked Howard's hair again. "Good night." 

*****

"Are you seeing someone?" Sam asked as they sat in Sam's cramped living room, drinking beer and watching the game.

Steve glanced over at him. "Sam, you're one of my closest friends, and I love you, but you're not my type." 

Sam sputtered indignantly, his face flushing. "What do you mean, not your type? I'd be an amazing boyfriend." 

"You're kind of a nag," he said, laughing when Sam shove him hard against the arm of the couch. 

"I'm serious, Steve, are you dating someone?"

Steve brought his beer bottle to his lips and took a long pull.

"Are you going to therapy?"

"What's with the twenty questions?" Irritation colored his voice.

"Why aren't you answering me?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone." He finished his beer and slammed the bottle down on the coffee table.

"Then what's going on? You've been really quiet today. Quiet and distracted." Sam tilted his head. "Is everything okay? And if you say 'everything's fine' I will punch you in the nose."

Steve shrugged and looked away. "Okay, maybe there is someone. But it's… it's complicated."

"Complicated how? He's not married is he?"

He turned to Sam. "No!" Then he paused for a moment before continuing. "Well, yes, but he and his wife have been separated for almost six years."

"Right—"

"That's not the complication!" Steve ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, because, dammit, Howard's marriage was the least of his worries.

"What? Is he a 'guest' at the facility?" Sam grinned at him, but when he didn't grin back, Sam's grin faded. "You're fucking kidding me. Jesus Christ, Steve! Do you know how—" 

"I know!" Steve jumped to his feet and paced the room. "Sam, nothing's happened and nothing will happen, because I know! I know how wrong it is. I know it's a breach of trust and… and…"

"You have to quit." Sam got up and walked over to Steve, then grabbed him by the arm and shook him gently. "You have to quit right now."

"I can't," he said softly. 

"Why not?"

"Because he's in danger." Steve swallowed hard. "I'm not going to let it get out of hand. I'll leave before I do. You know me, Sam. You know I would never, *ever* take advantage of someone."

"I know." Sam ran his hand over his face. "You really think he's in danger?"

"Yeah, I just don’t know how much yet." Steve thought about Stane and the bruise on Howard's jaw. He thought about all the other bruises Stane might have left in the past and might leave in the future.

"What can I do to help?"

Steve felt such relief; he smiled at Sam. "Give me time to figure out some of the connections. I promise, when I find something out, you'll be the first to know."

"I better be. I'll kick your ass if I'm not." Sam got up and stretched. "Another beer?"

"Please."

*****

Penny Durant was nice enough, until he told her why he'd called; then she hung up on him. She refused to take any of his subsequent calls. 

Henry Chang threatened to sue him if he called again.

Danny Harris seemed to have fallen off the face of the planet a few days after he'd been fired. The police suspected foul play, but there were no leads to say one way or the other. 

There was a story here, Steve could feel it, but the only people who could illuminate the situation weren't talking. It made the hair on the back of Steve's neck stand on end and he wondered what sort of monster Stane was hiding behind the congenial smile he gave the media. 

*****

Steve learned how cruel Stane could be the day he brought Tony for a visit.

*****

It was dinnertime and Steve and Carol were trying to get everyone out of the TV room and into the dining hall for lunch. Of course, it was easier said than done—it was like herding cats. Carol rolled her eyes, gently steering Nathaniel towards the door, and nodded her head at Howard, who was sitting at a table they kept near the window, scribbling notes on the palm of his hand. 

"I'll take care of it," he said, but then Peggy came into the room and gestured to Steve; she looked troubled. "What is it?"

"Howard has some guests. I need you to stay right here with him, Steve. Don't leave, no matter what."

"Okay." Steve gave her a concerned look. "What's going on?"

"Obadiah's here." She lowered her voice. "He brought Tony." 

"Tony?" Steve glanced at Howard. "I won't leave him." 

"Good." She frowned at Howard, then turned on her heel and left.

Steve took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as excitement and anxiety warred with one another, and sat next to Howard at the table. He plucked the pen from Howard's hands. 

"Hey!" Howard tried to snatch it back, but Steve was too fast. "I was using that!"

"You're going to make yourself sick if you keep drawing on yourself." 

Howard rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom!"

"Be nice." Steve straightened Howard's collar. 

"Stop that!" Howard batted his hands away. "Where is everybody?"

"Lunch. You'll go after your visit. Peggy says you have a few guests."

"Guests? Who the hell would visit me today? It's not even—" The rest of the words died away as a young man stepped in the doorway. "Tony," Howard said, finally, his voice soft and tremulous. 

Even if Steve hadn't known who it was, even if he hadn't seen the kid's picture in the papers countless times, there was no denying it was Howard's kid. And only Howard's kid, thank God. Hopefully Peggy would manage to keep Stane occupied for a while.

Tony walked over to the table, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a sullen look on his face. "Hey, Dad."

Howard stumbled out of his chair and took a step towards Tony, as if to hug him. Tony expertly maneuvered away from Howard, and sat down. Howard faltered for a moment, then followed suit. "My God, look at you. You've… You've grown."

"Well, it's been over five years. It happens." Tony glanced at Steve. "Who're you?"

"Steve Rogers. I'm a nurse here." He offered his hand to Tony, but the kid just stared at it until Steve let his hand drop.

"So how are you? How's your mom?" The words stumbled over one another in Howard eagerness.

"Mom's good. Happy. She's been dating someone for a couple of months and they're pretty serious." 

Howard's expression faltered and Steve could see him trying to pull himself together. "Hey, that's great. That's just great. She deserves to be happy." He swallowed hard and stared down at his hands for a moment. "Oh, um, congratulations!"

Tony frowned. "For what?"

"MIT. Obi said you graduated in two years. God, that's fantastic. I'm so proud of you."

Steve saw something like pride flash across Tony face, but it was quickly replaced by a blank look. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Maybe you could send me some pictures of the ceremony. I don't have any pictures of you. Or your mom."

"I don't think anybody took pictures." Tony looked out the window and Steve wanted to shake the kid. Could he see that Howard was trying? 

"I could take a picture of the two of you with my cellphone," Steve said.

For a moment, Howard's eyes brightened, but Tony shook his head. "Sorry, I don’t really like taking pictures."

Howard crossed his arms over his chest. "So you must be excited. You're turning twenty-one next year. You can take over Stark Industries."

"Not really. I'm thinking about letting Obi stay on as CEO for a few more years."

That was too much for Howard. He slapped his hands on the table and said, "You can't do that!"

Tony glared at him. "I can do whatever the hell I want. It's gonna be my company."

"Tony." Howard softened his voice. "Your great-grandfather built that company from nothing. It's your legacy. It's… your history and your future."

Tony snorted. "Wow, Dad, that almost sounded like you cared about me. "

"I do care about you. Of course I do. I'm your father."

"Please, stop! Just fucking stop," Tony said, angrily. "You're not my father, you're a fucking sperm donor."

"Watch your mouth, kid!" Steve didn't mean to say anything, but he could see how much Tony's words hurt Howard.

"It's okay, Steve. It's…" Howard touched his arm. "I deserved that. I know I was a shitty father, Tony. I know that I made a lot of mistakes. I treated you and your mom bad and I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry. But don’t throw away your life just to spite me."

"God, this was a mistake. I told Obi this was a waste of my time." Tony got to his feet.

"No, no, it's not." Howard looked up at him. "You could visit again. You could… you could bring your mom next time."

"She doesn’t want to see you. And I don’t want to see you."

Howard closed his eyes and a small sob escaped from him. 

"Oh, are you gonna cry now, Dad? Is that what you're going to do?" Tony clenched his jaw. "Remember what you told me when I was five years old and I had fallen off my bike? Did you remember, Dad?"

"Yes," Howard whispered.

"What did you say? What did you say when I came running to you? When I needed you to comfort me?" Tony was shaking, his hand clenched.

"I told you to shut the fuck up and that men didn't cry. I told you that if you didn't stop, I'd melt your bike into slag."

"And then you told me to get the fuck out of your office because you didn't have time to deal with my shit." 

"I was wrong. I was…" Howard opened his eyes. "Please don't leave me here, Tony. Please, I just want to go home. Can't I just go home?" He sobbed, tears streaming down his face; Steve put an arm across his shoulders. "Please, please, let me come home. I can do better. I can be better. I can be the dad you need me to be, just don’t leave me here! Please!" 

Tony was silent for a moment, and Steve could see he was affected by Howard's words, but then the blank face was back and Steve knew what he would say. "Shut the fuck up, Dad. Real men don't cry. Now if you'll excuse me, I don’t have time to deal with this shit." Then Tony walked out.

Howard crumbled. He buried his face in Steve's shirt, his breath coming in harsh sobs, Steve held him, stroking his hair and murmuring softly. They stayed that way, until Stane came into the room.

"Well, I'm guessing your reunion didn’t go very well." 

Steve desperately wished he had a gun. 

Howard lifted his head, wiped his eyes, and turned towards Stane. "I'm going to kill you," he said, voice calm. "I'm going to get out of here and I'm going to hunt you down and gut you."

"That won't make Tony love you." Stane smirked. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of your boy. He's so… sweet." Then Stane leered.

Howard snapped. He let out a roar and before Steve knew it, he was across the room, hands around Stane's throat. "I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you, you fucking bastard."

Steve cursed softly, rushed over to break them up, calling for help. 

It took one other nurse, an orderly, and Doctor Samson to pull them apart. Peggy quickly steered Stane out of the room and Steve held Howard in a wrestling hold, as he ranted and raved and did his best to get free. 

"Get a sedative," Steve yelled. "Get a goddamn sedative before he hurts himself!" 

When Howard finally sedated and Stane dealt with, Peggy gestured for Steve to follow her into her office. She pulled out two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "I won't tell if you wont," she said, filling the glasses and handing him one.

Steve threw back the shot and set the glass on the desk. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She smiled wearily. "Good man." 

*****

Steve didn’t go home that night. He sat beside Howard's bed, watching and waiting, and he didn't care what the others thought. Howard would need Steve when he woke up. 

It was well past midnight when Howard's eyes fluttered open. He looked confused for a moment, then his mouth tightened and he looked exhausted. 

Steve didn’t say anything, what could he say? But he took Howard's hand in his and squeezed gently. 

"I was drunk," Howard said, his voice hoarse and loud in the quiet of the room.

"What?" Steve blinked in surprise. 

"When I said those things to Tony about crying. I was drunk. I was always drunk back then. It's no excuse. I'm not excusing my behavior, but it's the reason why."

Steve's heart felt like it was breaking. He wanted to gather Howard close and just hold out. He stroked Howard's knuckles instead. "Howard, we don't need to talk about this right now. You should rest."

"No, I need to get this out. I won't talk about it later."

"Then let me get a doctor," he said, because he didn’t want to hear this. He didn't want to be Howard's confessor, he had too many of his own sins. 

Howard shook his head. "I don't trust the doctors." He shuddered. "That's the worst thing about this place, you know."

"The doctors?" Steve asked.

"That's the second worst." Howard smiled. "What's worse is seeing all your mistakes, seeing how you've hurt the ones you love, and knowing that you'll never be able to make amends. You can't make amends because you're stuck here, in a damn holding pattern."

"You'll have another chance. Tony is... Tony's twenty and twenty-year olds are always jackasses."

"I won't. I won't, Steve. Obi will make sure of that. God, I still can't believe was so stupid. I gave him Tony on a silver platter." 

"I thought your kid was supposed to be a genius?"

"He is." Steve could hear the pride in Howard's voice. "But Obi is good at manipulating people. And Tony wants approval. Tony… Well, I put that weakness there, didn't I? God, I'm surprised he agreed to visit."

"Of course he did. Yes, he's mad at you. He's so mad and hurt, but he still loves you." Howard snorted in disbelief and Steve shushed him. "He does. He loves you. He wouldn’t have tried hurting you so much if he didn't." 

Howard sighed; he was fighting to keep his eyes open. "I should've given it to Obi. I should have… But then I'd probably be dead now, I guess."

"Given what to him?" Steve whispered.

"The Cube." Howard's eyes slid shut and his breath evened out.

"Cube?" Steve frowned; was that some sort of engineering terminology? Maybe it had something to do with weaponry? 

*****

Peggy made Steve go home the next morning. He fought her on it. Fought her hard because he could see how pale Howard was, how he curled in on himself and refused to meet anyone's eyes. But in the end she ordered him home and told him not show his face for forty-eight hours. 

He shouldn't have listened. 

He should have fought harder. 

*****

Steve woke to the sound of his cellphone going off. He grabbed the phone off the nightstand and answered the phone with a slurred, "Rogers."

"Steve, it's Peggy." 

The tone of her voice was like a bucket of ice-cold water; he came fully away. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to come in." 

He checked his alarm clock—it was three-thirty. Dammit, that meant something horrible happened. He fought down the terror clawing its way up his throat. "I'll be there in an hour."

"Make it forty-five minutes," she replied, and hung up. 

He made it in thirty-five and when he pulled up to the facility, there were still EMTs milling around, and Peggy was speaking with a police officer. She saw him and gestured for him to wait where he was.

Steve rocked on the balls of his feet, his chest tight, and his heart pounding. When she and the policeman finished speaking, she walked over on unsteady legs, face pale, hands and clothes stained with blood.

"Peggy, what happened?" 

The façade of calm she wore cracked and her lips trembled. "Howard found a razor."

"No!" A sob tore from his throat. 

"Steve." She grabbed his arms. "He lost a lot of blood, but he was still alive when the EMTs took him away."

He closed his eyes for a moment to ease the sting of tears. "Will they let us know?"

"I'll call the hospital in the morning." She took a deep breath. "He'll be alright, Steve. He's a fighter."

"If that were true—" He pressed his lip together, cutting off the unkind statement. Howard was ill; he'd forgot that. "You need help with the other patients?"

She didn’t correct his word usage. "Yes." 

"Right." He pulled himself together. "Do you think Stane will send him back here? After."

"This is his fourth attempt. But only the second time he's gone this far." In other words, she didn't know. 

He nodded. "Okay. You should get cleaned up." 

She looked down at herself and made a soft sound of surprise. "Yes. Yes, I… I think I will."

*****

Steve walked into the TV room and took a look around. Most of the patients had already gone back to their rooms and the other nurses and doctors were comforting the rest. He turned to go, when a small movement in the shadows caught his eye. That's when he noticed Nathaniel huddled in a corner of the room, looking miserable. Steve walked over and settled on the floor, letting Nathaniel make the first move.

"I hate his guts," Nathaniel said, his voice hoarse and shaky. "I hate his fucking guts. We all do. I don’t even care if he dies. He's always saying shitty things to people. So why is this bothering me? Why do I feel like I'm ready to shake out of my skin?"

"Because you're a good person, Nathaniel," Steve replied softly.

Nathaniel laughed bitterly. "You don't know that! You don’t know that I'm a good person!" 

"I've known you for eight months. I've seen you interact with the other guests. I've seen you interact with Howard, even when no one else does." Steve touched Nathaniel's arm. "You are a good person. You're a compassionate person." 

"Howard Stark is the craziest asshole in this place. And the most interesting, unfortunately." Nathaniel rubbed his eyes. 

Steve smiled. "Yeah, he can be a contradiction."

"Screw that. I was talking about the insane shit he writes on his arms."

"You can understand that?"

Nathaniel snorted. "Steve, I've got two doctorates, one in physics and the other in engineering, and I can't make heads or tails of it. I don’t think anyone can. What Howard is hypothesizing is impossible. "

"What is he hypothesizing?"

"A new power source. But the math doesn't add up. It doesn't make sense. It's…" Nathaniel shook his head and took a deep breath. "Do you think he's going to be alright?"

"Peggy thinks so. But we'll know more later in the day. Are you tired? Do you think you can sleep?"

"No. Do you think the doctor will give me something to help?" Nathaniel asked hopefully.

"I'll ask. In the meantime, why don't you go to your room and relax." Steve rose to his feet and gave Nathaniel a hand up. 

"I hate the bastard's guts, Steve." Nathaniel swallowed hard. "But I think he might be my best friend. How screwed up is that?" 

"I don’t think that's screwed up at all. I think you like him a lot more than you want to admit."

"God, what a horrible thought," Nathaniel said, but he was smiling. 

*****

Steve didn't think about Howard. He didn’t think about how his chest ached so much it hurt to breathe and how his stomach felt like it was tied into knots and how hard it was to wake up in the morning or go home at night. 

He didn't think about how his vision blurred and his breath hitched in his throat when Peggy found out that Howard survived his suicide attempt. Or how he wanted to punch something when he found out that after Howard's mandatory six-week stay at the psych ward of the hospital, Stane was moving him to a new facility. 

Peggy made him pack up Howard's things and he didn't think about how that made him feel. He just went home, feeling bone-weary and old, ready to crawl into bed and sleep until he couldn't anymore. 

Maybe if he weren't so tired, he would have noticed something instead of walking into his house and into an ambush.

"Hello, Steve," Fury said, turning on the lamp and flooding the room with light. 

The front door closed and Steve turned to see Bucky leaning against it casually, like he wasn't poised to pull a weapon if Steve made a sudden move. And God, Steve wanted to make a sudden move. He wanted to shove his fist into Bucky's face. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the couch. "What the fuck do you want, Fury?" 

"We need to talk, Steve." Fury crossed his legs and steepled his fingers.

"I don't want to talk. I want to take a shower then go to bed. Give me a call tomorrow. I'll pencil you in for Saturday." 

"This is important, Steve," Bucky said.

"It's always important. Well, you know what, it's not my problem anymore. I've got other things to worry about now."

"We know, Steve, that’s why we're here." Fury gestured for him to sit down. "We need to talk to you about Howard Stark."

Steve went cold and he sat heavily on the couch. "What do you know about him?"

Fury shrugged. "Until his one way ticket to the crazy house, he was *the* weapons manufacturer for the US military. He invented modern military weaponry. He was also a founding member of SHIELD and my best friend." 

"That's funny, I never saw you on visiting day." If Steve had learned anything from working with Fury, it was that you had to take what he said with a grain of salt. "He never mentioned knowing you."

"Did he talk to you a lot, Steve? Were you two close?" Fury raised an eyebrow. "I heard you were. I heard you were *very* close."

Steve clenched his hands. "And how the hell would you know that?" Fury smiled and Steve wanted to ask if the spy was a patient or staff. "Why?"

Fury glanced at Bucky, who nodded and slipped out the front door. "This doesn't go any further than this room."

"Who would I tell?" That was the worst of it, no one would believe him except maybe Sam. 

"During World War Two, Howard's grandfather Isaac worked for the Strategic Scientific Reserve, a precursor to SHIELD. One of the projects he worked on was a artifact of unknown origin. A cube." Fury stopped and stared at Steve, 

Steve stared back in confusion, trying not to let his excitement show on his face. "A cube?" 

"It gave off high doses of energy. Isaac thought he could harness that energy, put it to good use. Only the technology wasn't advanced enough."

"What does that have to do with Howard?"

"At the end of the war, the Cube went missing. The brass thought Isaac took it, but they couldn’t pin anything on him. About ten years ago, Howard starts making inquires on it, sets off some alarms. He denied knowing anything about it, of course." Fury leaned back and smiled. "I've been told that Howard seems obsessed with cubes. Draws them on his skin along with formulas that don't make any sense." 

"Huh. Weird."

"Where's the Cube, Steve?" Fury's voice hardened.

"How the hell should I know?" Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "I mean, I noticed the writing too, but I just figured it was a part of his illness. We had a patient a few months back who kept drawing flowers on his walls." 

"This is important. If he has the Cube… if he knows where it is… It's power, Steve. It's pure power." And Fury wanted it.

"He didn't say anything to me." But now Steve understood why Howard never committed any ideas to paper, why he wore his ideas on his skin. 

"We think he told Stane about it. Trust me when I say you don't want that guy anywhere near it."

Steve stifled a gasp, because that was it, that was the last piece of the puzzle. "Oh my God, you're using him a patsy. You're… He's your friend!"

"This is more important than friendship. This is national… No, this is *world* security." 

"He says he isn't mentally ill. He says Stane is drugging him." 

Fury shook his head and laughed softly. "I've known Howard a long time and his hold on reality has always been a bit tenuous."

Steve rose to his feet. "Get out of my house. Now!"

"Okay, okay." Fury got up and shrugged into his jacket. "If you remember anything, and I mean *anything*, you let me know." 

"Go to hell." 

*****

Steve needed to find out what was in Howard's pills. He knew if he could get them to his contact in the university, he'd find out in no time. So the next day, he asked Peggy what they should do with them. He held his breath while he waited for an answer; thinking back on it, he was sure she was SHIELD's inside agent. 

She stood and stared at Steve for a moment, before she took the keys off her belt and handed them to him. "They should be mailed back to Stark Pharmaceuticals. Could you handle it, please, Steve? I've got a million things to do today." 

Steve's mouth went dry and he nodded. As he turned to go, she stopped him. 

"Steve." Peggy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "In this job, you're taught not to get too involved. But it's not that easy. I care about Howard, too. I meant what I said about wanting what's best for him."

"Okay," he said softly. He still wasn't sure he could trust her, not completely, but at least he knew she wouldn't hinder him. 

*****

"Doctor Banner, I didn't expect to hear from you so quickly," Steve said, leaning up against the lab table and crossing his arms.

"I got curious and you looked like you'd appreciate a quick turn around." Banner picked up the bottle of pills Steve gave him the day before and shook it. "Interesting combination here."

"What do you mean?" Steve took the bottle.

"I mean, there are two types of pills in that bottle. One is a mild sedative, which, okay, you can't get over the counter, but it's nothing unique. My own doctor prescribed something similar for my anxiety attacks. It's the other that interests me." Banner flipped through the pile of paper on his desk until he found what he was looking for. He handed it to Steve. "This is the chemical formula of the other pills."

Steve stared at it for a moment, frowning. "What am I looking at?"

"Good question. I was hoping you'd tell me. I mean, some of the components are familiar, but put together…" Banner shook his head. "Give me a week and I could figure it out."

"Could it be some sort of drug used for chemical warfare?"

"In pill form? Weird sort of chemical warfare." Banner sighed. "I fed some to one of my lab rats."

"And?"

"And it had a psychotic episode. It threw itself at the bars of the cage, attacked the other rats, it ran around, twitching until it collapsed with exhaustion. Did you say they were giving these pills to people?"

"What?" Steve blinked, pushing back the scenarios in his head. "No."

"Good. Who knows what sort of damage it could cause. I'd like to do a little more research, if it's alright with you."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Just… be careful."

Banner grinned. "Relax, Cap. I can take care of myself." 

Steve made a face. "Don't call me, I'll call you." 

*****

Steve walked with purpose down the hospital corridor; his head angled in a way that he knew would keep the cameras from capturing an image of his face, the stolen hospital keycard hanging off his scrubs, the pile of sheets hiding spare scrubs clutched to his chest. He knew that he was crossing the line and once they found out about this, he'd be done for, but he didn't care. He'd never left a man behind, and he wasn't going to start now. 

When Steve got to Howard's door, he unlocked it, and slipped into the room. The bedside lamp was on, and Steve stopped and stared at Howard's gaunt, pale face, stubble shadowing his cheeks, dark smudges under his eyes. Howard wasn't strapped to the bed, but then, there were still bandages on his arms from the attempted suicide. 

Steve's breath hitched in his throat—no, no, he had to hold on. He set the pile of sheets on the bed and stroked Howard's hair.

Howard gasped, his eyes eyes popping open, then he blinked in confusion. "Steve? Steve, what—"

"Shhh." Steve brought a finger to his lips, then gestured to the door. 

"What are you doing here?" Howard whispered.

"I'm getting you out." Steve pulled out the spare scrubs. "Can you walk?"

"To get out of here, I'll fly if I have to." Howard sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. "You believe me then? You believe I'm not crazy?" There was a note of hope in Howard's voice that made Steve's chest ache.

"Yeah, yeah, I believe you." Steve helped Howard get his robe off and into the scrubs. "When we're safe, we'll talk."

Howard nodded, then grimaced when he saw the shoes Steve provided. "Crocs? Really? Crocs? We're not in fucking California, Cap." 

Steve glared at him. "Put on the damn shoes and don't call me Cap." 

Howard grinned and saluted him.

*****

Getting Howard out of the hospital was too damn easy. If Steve didn't wind up in prison after all this, he was going to send a strongly worded letter to the hospital administrators. 

Then, because Fury would send Bucky out looking for them, and Bucky knew all of Steve's boltholes, he took them to the one place he knew they'd never check.

*****

"Why are we breaking into a church?" Howard whispered, sounding as exhausted as he looked. 

"Because Pastor Wilson keeps a cot in his office and there's a pantry stocked with food for the after-school program. Now be quiet." Steve cursed softly under his breath and wiggled the pick.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, give me that." Howard wrenched the lock picks from Steve's hands and nudged him away. A few seconds later, he opened the door.

"Where'd you pick that up?" 

"Boarding school." Howard smiled and made his way into the church. "Where's the office?" 

Steve pushed past him and led the way and when they entered Pastor Wilson's office, Howard let out a groan and stretched out on the cot, eyes falling shut. Steve settled on the floor, buried his fingers in Howard's hair, and let out a sigh of relief.

"You said we were gonna talk," Howard said, turning his head and nuzzling Steve's arm. 

"I didn't realize you'd be so tired." Steve was tired, too. Bone-wearingly tired.

"Mmm. At least tell me where we're headed." Howard's words slurred together with exhaustion. 

"Someplace safe." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Howard's forehead. "Someplace where no one knows who we are or what we've done. A big city, like New York, where we can just blend in."

Howard smiled at that. "Sounds nice." 

"You'd be happy with that?" he whispered.

"Yeah." Howard's breath evened out and his mouth opened slightly as he fell asleep. 

Steve watched him for awhile, making sure he wasn't going to wake up, then went to see if he could rustle up some food and find some clothes for Howard in the donation box. 

When he woke Howard a few hours later, he had the beginnings of a plan and breakfast laid out on the Pastor's desk.

"What time is it?" Howard asked, rubbing his eyes. 

"Four. Pastor Wilson usually gets in about five thirty. There's a bathroom through there." Steve handed him a pile of clothes. "Go wash up. When you're done, I'll change your bandages and you can eat." 

Howard stumbled out twenty minutes later, his hair dripping wet, the new clothes fitting awkwardly on his frame. He slumped on the cot and held out his arms as Steve took out a roll of gauze from the first aid kit. 

Steve carefully took off the old bandages, wincing slightly at the stitches traveling down Howard's arms. He rebandaged them quickly, his hands shaking.

"Ugly, aren't they?" Howard said softly.

"Why?" He hadn’t meant to ask. He didn’t want to know.

Howard shrugged. "I tried to wash the writing off, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't. And I didn't want anyone to see it."

"Bullshit," Steve said angrily. "Don’t feed me that bullshit, Howard." 

"What do you want me to say, Steve?"

"Try the truth!" 

"The only thing the truth ever got me was a nice stay in the crazy house! But fine, you want to know why I slit my wrists? I was tired, Steve. I was tired of being a prisoner. I was tired of not being listened to and treated like was some—" Howard's voice broke and his eyes were wet. "My wife doesn't want me. My son doesn't want me. My business belongs to someone else. And I knew that even if I got out, even if I convinced the doctors that I was all right, I'd never get any of that back. Never, Steve. So I thought, why not? Who'd miss me if I was dead?"

"I would have missed you." Steve cupped his face. "Howard, I want you. I'd miss you." 

"Well, that's just fucked up, Steve." Howard wiped his eyes.

"Yeah, maybe. But I don't care." He smiled and pulled away. Then he picked up the two sandwiches he made. "So, do you want peanut butter and grape jelly or peanut butter and strawberry jam?"

Howard grimaced. "Strawberry jam, please."

He handed Howard the sandwich and an apple and started in on his own breakfast.

"So are we going to talk?" Howard asked, after finishing half his sandwich and the apple. "You said we were going to talk."

Steve licked peanut butter off his finger and shrugged. "I should have believed you from the beginning. I knew something was off, I knew it, but I ignored my instincts. I'm sorry about that, Howard."

"What did you find?" Howard stared down at this sandwich and picked at the crust.

"A lot of little things. Stark Pharmaceuticals has only three employees on payroll, which I find a little strange. Doctor Fennhoff used to owe a lot of dangerous people money. Then he became your doctor and his debt mysteriously went away."

"Did you talk to the other nurses? The ones who got fired?"

Steve shook his head. "They wouldn't talk to me. Too scared. But I did get a visit from Nick Fury."

Howard jerked in surprise. "Nicky came to see you?"

"I didn't know you were a founding member of SHIELD."

"And I didn't know you were a SHIELD operative." There was a wariness in Howard's eyes that made Steve's jaw clench.

"Was. Up until… four years ago." Steve held out his hand. "I didn't lie about what happened in Afghanistan, Howard. You asked me to believe you and I do. Now I'm asking you to trust me."

Howard looked away and bit his bottom lip. After a moment, he sighed and took Steve's hand. "Nick told you about the Cube?"

Steve nodded. "Is that why Stane set you up?"

"Yeah." Howard stroked Steve's palm. "I showed it to him about ten years ago. He became obsessed with it, wouldn't stop talking about it. He thought we could use it to make weapons. When I told him no, I guess he snapped. My grandfather wanted to get out of the weapons business and he was going to use the Cube do to it. "

"So Stane drugged you and had you declared mentally incompetent?"

"He couldn't kill me; I hid the Cube too well. I think he was trying to wear me down. Or wait to see if the Cube was part of Tony's inheritance." Howard took a deep breath. "It's not." 

"What do you want to do, Howard? I can get us out of the country, hide us as best I can."

"But they won't ever stop looking for us, will they?"

"You tell me. You know them both better than I do." Steve gently played with the edge of the bandage around Howard's arm.

"We have to get the Cube."

"And what? Destroy it?"

"No. No, I don't know that you can destroy it, not without risking some sort of cataclysmic event."

"Then what?"

Howard closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. When he opened his eyes again, Steve could see that his lashes were wet. "Use it as leverage. Get Nick to clean things up for us."

"It's your legacy. Are you sure?" Steve wiped the tears from under Howard's eyes.

Howard nodded. "I'm so damn tired, Steve. I just want it to be over with."

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay." Before he could second guess himself, he drew Howard into a hug. "Where's the Cube?"

"It's in my home in Manhattan."

Steve blinked in surprise and drew back. "Stane didn’t look there first?"

Howard snorted and fiddled with the collar of Steve's shirt. "My grandfather built that house to be his personal fortress. There are three underground levels to the house, built to withstand a nuclear assault. And only I know how to access them."

"Your grandfather was a bit obsessive." Steve gripped Howard's hands.

"It's a family trait," Howard said, leaning in and nuzzling Steve's jaw.

"I do admire dedication." Steve smiled and gently pushed Howard away. "Finish your breakfast. We need to get out of here." 

*****

NYPD was out in full-force, which shouldn't have surprised Steve—Howard was rich and famous and no doubt Stane wanted him found quickly—but it did. Howard took it all in stride, hand tucked in Steve's as they stumbled along the sidewalk, shivering.

"Was it this cold last night?" Howard asked. "I don't remember it being this cold." 

"Excitement kept you warm." Steve tightened his grip on Howard's hand and leaned in to whisper into Howard's ear. "I could steal another car, but it'd be risky." 

Howard sighed, let go of Steve's hand and hugged him, ignoring the pedestrians jostling them from all sides. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but can we take the subway?" 

Steve shook his head. "SHIELD will be watching the security cameras. We can take a bus, instead." 

"Oh, even better."

*****

"God," Howard said, pulling the knit cap off his head and curling on the bed of their motel room. "This place is a dump. I'm probably infested with bedbugs now. Or fleas." 

Steve drew the curtains and began to look for bugs. Just because he hadn’t told Bucky about this bolthole didn't mean anything in their line of business. His *former* line of business. And Bucky always had been a better at covert operations than Steve. 

When Steve was done, he let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall, letting the day's worries and anxiety slip away.

Howard kicked off his shoes and slipped out of Steve's leather jacket. "So are we clear of bugs, 007?"

"Electronic ones, anyway." 

"Mmm." Howard patted the bed. "Come here. You look as tired as I feel. And I feel pretty damn tired."

Steve took off his shoes and crawled into bed beside Howard, who snuggled up against him with a sigh. "Get a few hours of sleep. When you wake up, you can draw me a map of the house." 

"You, too," Howard said, slipping a hand under Steve's shirt, and laying a palm against his stomach. "I know you didn't get any sleep last night."

"There's so much to do." Steve rested his hand on Howard's. "Do your arms hurt?"

"They're fine." 

"What about the rest of you?" Steve asked quietly.

"I'm fine." 

It was a lie, Steve could hear it in Howard's voice, but he didn't call Howard on it because there was nothing he could do about the problem. Instead, Steve rested a hand on Howard's hip and let out a huff of air.

Howard didn't say anything for quite a while and Steve was sure he was asleep. Then Howard whispered Steve's name. 

"Yeah," he said, just as quietly.

"What would you have done if it turned out I really was schizophrenic?" Howard drew squares on Steve's stomach.

Steve swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Nothing would have changed, except that I would have taken you to the Wakandan Embassy. I'm good friends with King T'Challa; he would have granted us asylum."

"I've never been to Africa." Howard's voice was hoarse. "Maybe we can go there after this is all over."

"I'd like that." Steve pressed a kiss to Howard's hair.

"Promise me that if something happens, you won't let them send me back. Please, Steve."

"Were going to be fine," Steve said, tightening his grip of Howard's hip.

"But if we're not—"

"I'm not reenacting the end of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest with you, Howard. Now shut the hell up!" He took a deep, calming breath. "We're going to be fine."

Howard trembled against him. "Okay. Steve… okay."

*****

When Steve woke up, it was late, the room was dark except for the glow of the TV. Steve watched a moment as Howard's picture came on the screen and the newscaster, a pretty brunette, mentioned a statewide hunt. Howard was sitting next to Steve on the bed, stripped to his boxers, trying to write on his legs with a pen.

"I made a list of things you'll need," Howard murmured.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "On your legs."

Howard lifted his head and looked at him like he was an idiot. "It's on the nightstand. I made sure to keep it simple. You'll be able to find everything at Radio Shack."

"Why don't you use the paper?" Steve flexed his fingers.

"I told you, the skin's mine. They can't take it away from me." Howard sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's not working. Take off your shirt."

"W-What?" Steve's mouth went dry and he twitched.

"I need your back." Howard grabbed the hem of Steve's shirt and lifted it up. "Come on, get it off."

"Okay, okay. Geez, Howard." He pulled off his shirt and turned his back. "What—" 

Howard slid a hand down Steve's back, making the hair on his arms stand on end and his nipples harden. "Perfect." 

The tip of the pen glided across Steve's skin—Howard muttered equations under his breath—and it felt like he was becoming the numbers in Howard's head, clean and clear and he closed his eyes, wondering if Howard still saw sevens in his eyes and infinity in his lips. He wondered if Howard's infinity meant the same thing as Steve's.

He wondered… He…

His brain stuttered to stop as Howard's lips pressed against the back of his neck, tongue teasing down and across his shoulder, teeth nipping at an earlobe. Steve turned his head and Howard captured his mouth in a scorching kiss.

"I see sevens too, you know," he whispered against Howard's mouth. "I see infinity." 

Howard wrapped his arms around Steve, hugging him from behind, and pressed a kiss to his neck. "I want to, but the medication. I… God, Steve, I want to. "

"I know." Steve ran his hands over the bandages around Howard's arms. "We will. As soon as you can. I promise." He turned, pushing Howard down on the bed and kissed him. Kissed and kissed and kissed, murmuring infinity and seven and Pi and every formula and equation he could remember from school. Howard moaned and touched every bit of him, whispering back, a tumble of numbers and words so intricate, it left Steve reeling.

*****

Steve pressed a kiss to Howard's swollen mouth and brushed the love bite on his neck. "How do you feel?"

"Inspired." Howard smiled. He moved a hand up to touch Steve's face, but stopped with a wince.

"Your arms hurt. I should check them." Steve frowned and made to sit up; Howard stopped him.

"No, they're fine. It's nothing a few aspirin won't fix." Howard held his arms against his chest. "Besides, we have bigger concerns."

Steve wanted to argue the point, but sighed instead. Howard was right; he wished Howard wasn't right. "What's the list for?"

"Protection. We have a lot of people after us. We'll need defenses."

"And equipment from Radio Shack is going to protect us from the police, the FBI, SHIELD, and whatever forces Stane's hired?" 

Howard grinned. "You may not know this, but I'm a genius and I used to own a business that builds weapons for the military, including SHIELD. As a matter fact, the FBi and SHIELD use security software that I programmed and weapons that designed. I know all their vulnerabilities, because I put them there."

"So… yes. That's what you're saying?"

"Oh, yes," Howard said softly.

"Good, we're going to need it. How long will it take you to make what we'll need?" 

"A couple of days. Why?" 

"We're going to need surveillance equipment. I need to know who's watching the house and their positions. Did you draw me a map?" 

Howard nodded. 

Steve climbed out of bed and began to dress. "I need to go out for a few hours, talk to some people, work on getting the equipment. You'll be all right alone?"

"No." Howard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes."

He sat on the bed and cupped Howard's face. "If I'm not back by tomorrow at noon, I want you to get out of here, head to the Wakandan Embassy. Tell them you're under Captain America's protection."

Howard gave him an incredulous look. "Captain America? Are you serious?"

"It was what my men called me, in the Army. It followed me when I became a SHIELD agent" He leaned down and kissed Howard. "T'Challa will keep you safe."

"Come back. You're the only one I want keeping me safe." 

"I'll do my best." Steve grabbed his shoes and pulled them on.

"I want a code name. Don’t you think I deserve a code name?"

Steve looked at him and grinned. "What about… Iron man?"

Howard made a face. "That's just as bad as Captain America." 

He laughed and ran his fingers through Howard's hair. "Stay inside, don't open the door for anyone but me. I'll bring back something to eat."

"A cheeseburger. I haven't had a proper cheeseburger in years."

"I'll see what I can do." 

*****

Steve watched Sam move around the rooftop, feeding his birds and making sure his favorites got some individual attention. He knew he should leave Sam alone. He knew that this might negatively impact Sam and his family, but there was no one else he could go to. There was no one else he could trust. He scanned the area one more time before crawling out of his hiding spot and approaching Sam from behind.

The gravel crunched beneath Steve's feet and Sam turned, hands up, body tense and ready for a fight. He held up his hands and stopped. "Hey, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise, then he rushed forward and pulled Steve into a hug. "You son of a bitch! I've been worried sick about you. My parents have been worried sick about you. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He took a step back and looked Steve over.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Good!" Sam punched Steve in the arm, hard, and Steve hissed. "I spent four hours being interrogated by men in suits this morning. They said they were FBI, but they didn't move like FBI. Then the police came in and did the same thing! They even brought in my parents!" 

"God, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't… I didn't think they'd bring your parents into this. Are they all right?"

"They're fine. They're tougher than they look." Sam gave him a measuring look. "Have you slept any?"

"I got a few hours of sleep." Steve scanned the area again. "They're watching you, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Sam sighed and rubbed his head. "You should turn yourself in. You won't, but you should."

"I can't. Howard's being railroaded, Sam, and no one else will help him." 

"No one? Steve, you're not the only good guy in existence! You're not—" Sam let out a frustrated growl. "Even if that's true, even if he is being railroaded and you're the only guy who can help him, he still needs his meds. Steve, you're a nurse, you know this! Things are gonna get real bad for him if he goes cold turkey."

"I know." God, did he know. "That's why we have to act fast." He took out Howard's list and handed it to him. "I need everything on this list by tomorrow morning. I can't risk getting them myself. Sam, I wouldn't ask, but it is a matter of life and death."

Sam let out a deep sigh. "Steve…"

"He's not schizophrenic. His old business partner's been drugging him. I got confirmation from Bruce at the University. Sam, please." 

"Is he really worth it, Steve? Is he really worth losing everything?"

"I'm not going to stand by while someone is hurt, Sam. I'm not."

"Yeah," Sam said, "that's what I thought you were going to say." He looked at the list. "I'll get you everything and take it to my old coop. You remember where that is?" 

Steve nodded. "Thanks." 

"Don't thank me. Tell Mr. Moneybags that I expect to be reimbursed. With interest."

He grinned. "I'll let him know."

*****

When he returned to the motel room, Howard was sprawled on the bed, channel surfing. Steve locked the door behind him, shrugged out of his jacket, and tossed a bag of food at Howard.

Howard dropped the remote, looked in the bag, and grimaced. "The cable here sucks. There's not even an option to watch porn."

"Why would you want to watch porn?"

"Why not? It's better than staring at the crappy picture of me they keep flashing on the news. I mean, Jesus, they even put Tony on air. You should have heard him, pleading for whoever kidnapped me to turn himself in. The kid's a natural actor. He even shed a few tears. Can you believe it? I mean, can you fucking—" Howard's voice broke, but continued on as if nothing happened. "Can you fucking believe it?"

"Howard." Steve sat on the bed and put a hand on Howard's shoulder.

"I want him to suffer, Steve. I want him to slowly bleed out while I watch. I want him to beg me for fucking mercy so I can laugh in his face." The hatred in Howard's voice was almost palpable and Steve knew he wasn't talking about Tony.

"Stane will get what's coming to him."

"He was the best man at my wedding. He… he's Tony's godfather. And I want to destroy him. I want to fucking destroy him."

Steve understood the sentiment, but he also knew he couldn't let Howard do that either. Killing a person, whether they deserved it or not, changed you. "Why don't you eat your cheeseburger?"

Howard made a face. "I'm not hungry."

"I know." Steve reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a baggie of pills. "But you need to take these on a full stomach."

"You bought me drugs?" Howard gave Steve an incredulous look.

"They'll help. We… Things are starting to get rough for you, Howard, I can tell. And we need to keep you stable for a few days. " 

Howard stared warily at the pills.

"You don't have to take them. I'm not going to force you. But…" Steve stared down at the baggy.

"But if I don't, this all falls apart." Howard took the pills from Steve. "How many do I need to take?"

"One every eight hours. It shouldn't affect your mental capabilities."

"I'll let you know if that's not true." Howard sighed, looking pale and resigned. "Pass me a damn cheeseburger."

*****

They moved to another bolthole the next day: an empty warehouse with concrete floors that leached the warmth from their bodies and left their bodies aching. Howard didn’t' sleep much. He took apart every damn piece of electronics Sam had bought for them and put them back together in interesting shapes and configurations, using Steve's skin to draw out schematics and plans. 

Every eight hours Steve would feed Howard another pill, then push him down onto their bedding, tangling fingers into his hair and kissing him until they were both warm and Howard lost the fanatical look in his eyes. 

*****

"Do you have to go?" Howard asked, staring up at Steve, his lips curving downward in a frown. 

"Yeah, I do. You know I do. I need to see who's watching the house. I need to know numbers, firepower, and shift changes." Steve checked his gun, then put it into his side holster.

"I could come with you." Howard gripped the sheets, twisting and tugging at them.

"You need to work on our distraction. I don't want the police or FBI involved in this." Steve picked up one of the spare weapons and handed it to Howard. "You know how to use this?"

"Please! My grandfather taught me to shoot when I was seven. You can't make weapons without knowing how to use them." Howard grinned. "And I'm a very good shot." 

Steve smiled and tried his best to ignore the pounding of his heart. "You remember the plan?"

Howard rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dad, I remember. In twelve hours I head to the next bolthole. If I don't see you in another twenty-four, I move to the next hidey-hole on the list. Which, yes, Steve, I've memorized. And then…" Howard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I give you another two days and if I still don't hear from you, I'm to assume you've been captured and are unable to escape and I should go straight to the Wakandan Embassy." 

He nodded. "Don't try to be a hero. Just get to safety."

"Fuck you, too." Then Howard surged to his feet and pulled Steve into a kiss. "You better come back, you bastard. You better fucking come back." 

"Don't forget to take your pills." Steve stepped away and put on his jacket. "I'll see you in twenty-four hours." 

*****

Reconnaissance was easy, the memory of it shaped his movements, and his mind spooled out tactics and formations the way Howard's did with numbers.

He loved it and he missed it and he hated himself for it.

But he was a soldier, he knew he was a soldier, and he always would be. 

*****

Stane's men were easy to find; Steve's lips curled in derision. Amateurs, all of them. He'd take them out now if he could. Picking them off, man-by-man, until there were nothing but broken, bloody bodies. 

The SHIELD agents were more difficult. If Fury was smart, and he was, oh he was, he'd keep Steve's old team away from this mission. And not only because Steve knew them like the back of his hand. Steve had fought with the Avengers, killed with them, almost died with them; they were brothers and sisters in arms; they would be conflicted, they might hesitate. Fury wasn't going to take that chance. 

Steve certainly wouldn't.

*****

When Steve walked into the newest bolthole, he was greeted with a gun in the face and Howard, glaring, lips pressed tightly together, hair a tousled mess.

He held up his hands in surrender, waving a slightly greasy bag. "I come in peace. I even brought donuts."

"Son of a bitch." Howard lowered the gun and let out a sigh. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Donuts."

 

Howard grabbed the bag from Steve's hand and tossed it on the floor. "Asshole! I was worried." Before Steve could protest, Howard dropped to his knees and set the gun down on the floor. "I’m gonna blow you now."

"What? Howard, no! I…" The words died in his throat as Howard leaned over and nuzzled his crotch; all the blood rushed downward, making him hard.

"I want your dick in me. Figured you wouldn't fuck me when I couldn't get it up." Howard looked up and licked his lips: his cheeks were flushed, eyes bright. "But we can do this. Please, Steve, just in case. Just… *please*." 

He shouldn't, God, he knew he shouldn't. It was one thing to kiss and touch, but… Fuck. He rubbed his thumb against Howard's lower lip and leaned back against the door. "Yeah. Yeah, okay," he said, closing his eyes and fighting the tremor in his voice.

Howard deftly opened Steve's jeans, pushing them and his underwear off his hips. "God, you're fucking beautiful. Why are you so goddamn beautiful?"

Steve cupped the back of Howard's head and let out a sigh.

"You're so big; this is gonna be messy." Howard didn't sound upset about the prospect. He gripped the base of Steve's dick, took the head into his mouth and suckled it gently.

Steve groaned, fingers tightening in Howard's hair, knees trembling as he struggled not to thrust. Struggled not come. "Hurry." 

"Mmm." Howard sucked harder, his hands stroking what wasn't in his mouth. 

There was no finesse to it, no technique, and Steve didn't care one bit. Steve urged Howard to suck harder, to take more into his mouth, and he did. Steve arched his neck, banging his head against the door, as the heat and suction made his toes curl and his belly tighten. "H-Howard!"

Howard made wet, needy sounds, like he loved every minute of the blowjob, like he got something out of it. 

Steve opened his eyes and looked down; that was a mistake. That was… Howard was staring up at him, mouth stretched around Steve's dick, hand pumping faster, looking happier than Steve had ever seen him. Steve let out a curse, thrusting into Howard's mouth, making his eyes water, making him gag. Watching him take it. And Steve couldn't handle it, it was too much. 

He squeezed his eyes closed, heat spiking through him, out of him, into Howard's mouth. He hit his head on the door again, a strangled cry tumbling out of his mouth. 

He didn't move to help as Howard straightened his clothes. Once he was tucked in and zipped up, he opened his eyes and looked down. Howard's mouth was shiny and swollen, saliva and come dripped down his chin. Sevens and infinity symbols flashed through Steve's mind. He reached down and wiped away the wetness, licking his fingers clean.

Howard shuddered. "I expect you to fuck me hard when this is all over with. I expect so many orgasms that my head explodes."

Steve smoothed down Howard's hair, a hot and dangerous emotion blooming in his chest. "Pass me a jelly donut, will you?"

"Asshole," Howard said fondly. "There had better be a maple bar in that bag."

*****

"Twenty minutes," Howard said, body curled around the Starkpad in his hand. 

"You sure?" Tension strummed through Steve's limbs and he fought the urge to twitch at every sound coming from the dark. Twenty minutes until all hell broke loose.

Howard gave him a dirty look. "You know your stuff, I know mine. Twenty minutes and SHIELD headquarters goes on lockdown. Twenty minutes and the police precinct computers in the area go absolutely crazy. They'll be so busy trying to figure out what's going on, they'll pull the cops watching the house." Howard raised an eyebrow. "You got the earplugs I made you?"

"Yeah." Steve touched an ear; it didn't seem to affect his hearing, which was good.

"Don't lose them. It would be embarrassing if you paralyzed yourself using the sonic taser." Howard smiled.

He curled a hand against the back of Howard's neck. "Are you sure I couldn't just—"

Howard made an annoyed sound. "Yes. You need my bio signs and my retinal print. Now shut up. Nineteen minutes." 

Steve stroked a thumb down Howard's neck and whispered his name softly. 

Howard didn't look at Steve, but he arched into the touch. "So help me, I will tase you. "

He smiled and kissed Howard's temple. "Alright."

*****

"One minute," Howard said, checking his gun and the taser, then smiling at Steve. "You ready for this?"

"I think that's my line." Steve pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Follow close, do what I say, and don't question me."

"Blah, blah, blah. I got it." Howard looked away. "Before we head out, I just wanted to say… thank you. You didn't have to do any of this."

"Yeah, I did. I really did." He cleared his throat and took a step back. "Time?" 

"It should be happening… now. Let's go." 

*****

The tension bled from Steve's body as he moved soundlessly across the grass towards the house, Howard panting and stumbling after him. He wasn't worried, not at all. Howard said he had taken down the security systems, and Stane's men would be easy to pick off. As for the SHIELD agents, well, Fury would wait to see what they were doing before moving in.—they'd be more dangerous once Howard had the Cube in hand. 

There was a sound to the right of him, a twig cracking under a boot, and he turned, quickly, shoving Howard behind him. But before he could move, before the enemy could move, Steve saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye as Howard brandished the sonic taser. 

The enemy's eyes widened, then he toppled over, gun falling out of his hands. 

Howard darted forward, snatched up the gun, and coldcocked the guy. "Ouch!"

He'd have to show Howard how to throw a punch correctly. "Help me move him," he said softly, grabbing the guy by the shoulders. Howard nodded and grabbed the guy's legs. Once they had the man safely hidden away, they continued on, moving from tree to tree to small bush, trying to keep from prying eyes.

Unfortunately, the last ten yards between the garden and the back of the house didn't have any cover, but Howard had a plan for that, too. Or so he said. 

Howard took out his Starkpad, opened up a program, and twenty seconds later, the north wall exploded in a hail of pebbles and fire. "I needed to get it rebuilt anyway."

"You're a dangerous guy." He took Howard's hand and once it was clear, made a run for it, murmuring prayers under his breath that everyone was too preoccupied by what was happening in the front of the house to notice them. 

When they reached the back door, Steve turned to cover them while Howard crouched down to work the lock.

"Hurry, Howard." The tension was back, along with a sense of unease. 

"Give me a sec, I'm working as fast as I can. I—" Howard let out a gasp of surprise as the door creaked open.

Steve turned, his heart sinking in his chest as Stane stood in the doorway, a gun in his hand. 

"I'd drop your weapons if I were you." Stane smiled and pressed the muzzle of the gun against Howard's forehead; Steve hesitated for a second before putting down his gun. "I've been waiting for you, Howard." 

"I know," Howard said, his voice emotionless.

Stane backed up slowly. "Get your asses in here. Now." Several of Stane's men came up behind them and manhandled them into the house after patting them down. Once they were seated at a small kitchen table, Stane handed his gun over to one of his men. "I knew it had to be here."

"Of course you did. It was the only logical place." Howard folded his hands on the table; Steve kept his mouth shut and waited for an opportunity. "This doesn't change anything, you know. I'm still going to kill you, Obadiah."

"I'm not too worried about my chances."

"You should be." Howard cocked his head. "Even if you get the Cube, you won't keep it. You do realize that, don't you?"

"We'll see." Stane smiled.

"So let's go." Howard got to his feet and Stane's guards all trained their weapons on him. "Really? I've been in the crazy house for six years, guys. I'm not much of a threat." 

"You're just going to take me to it?" Stane said skeptically.

"If I don't, you'll torture Steve until I do. And I'd like him in one piece."

Stane narrowed his eyes. "You're up to something."

"Maybe." Howard shrugged. "Make up your mind, Obi. This is a nice neighborhood. That explosion earlier is going to bring the cops. "

Stane stared at Howard for a few moments, then he gestured to one of his men. "You, come with me. The rest of you, stay with him. If you don't hear from us in fifteen minutes, kill him." 

Howard leaned in and kissed Steve's mouth. "Gimme five, then do what you have to do," he murmured softly, then straightened. "Let's go." 

*****

Steve sat quietly, counting down the minutes in his head. He knew how he was going to do it: flip the table at guard number one in front of him, head-butt guard number two behind him. Take the weapon, shoot guard number one in head, turn, shoot guard number two, then move towards the garage where the access panel to the lower levels were situated. 

He just had to wait three more minutes.

*****

Two minutes.

*****

One minute.

*****

Steve wiped away the blood that had sprayed across his face, slipped guard number two's gun in his side holster, then made his way toward the garage.

*****

He didn't stumble across anyone on the way to the garage, and that worried him. He wondered if Fury was making it easy for him. He wondered if Stane was playing a game he hadn't considered. 

Steve's heart pounded and a trickle of sweat slid down the side of his face. He swallowed hard. He had to keep it together. He couldn't let his nerves get the better of him; that's how mistakes were made.

He slowly opened the door to the garage and darted in, freezing at the scene before him. Both the guard and Stane were crumpled on the floor, Howard standing over them, a gun in hand. The guard looked dead and Stane's mouth was bleeding.

"What took you so long? I said five minutes." Howard's voice was strained and his face was bathed in sweat, but his hand was steady.

"That was five minutes." Steve moved to his side. "How did you manage this?"

"I told you, my grandfather built this house to be his fortress." Howard grinned. "He was a bit obsessive about his privacy. In his later years…" The grin faded from Howard's face. "Well, let's just say that Obi didn't pull paranoid schizophrenia out of thin air. Did you, asshole?"

Stane glared up at him.

"What does that have to do with this?" Steve gestured at the two men on the ground.

"Personal security." Howard quirked his lips. "Grandpa loved booby traps." 

"I'll watch Stane while you get the Cube."

"No." Howard shook his head. "Not yet. I want to watch him die first."

Steve knew this was coming. He knew, but it still startled him.

"Howard—" Stane started.

"Don't 'Howard' me!" Howard's hand shook slightly. "You were the best man at my wedding, you're Tony's godfather, you were my best friend! And you betrayed me. You took *everything* from me."

"And it was *so* easy," Stane said softly. "You made it so easy." 

"I'm gonna shoot you in the gut and watch you die slowly." Howard's voice broke and his eyes were wet. 

"Howard." Steve touched his shoulder. "You can't."

"Why not? Steve, he deserves it. He deserves so much more." Howard's breath hitched and he began to shake.

"You're right, he does. He deserves justice." Steve reached out, wrapped one hand around Howard's wrist, the other around the gun. "He deserves to spend the rest of his life in a prison cell. That's what he deserves." He took the gun from Howard's hand; Howard turned away, sobbing quietly.

"Well done," Stane said from the floor and Steve growled, training the weapon on him.

"Shut up before I change my mind and put a bullet in your brain." A slow clapping sound filled the room and Steve tensed. Oh, the last puzzle piece. "Hello, Fury. You couldn't have helped sooner?"

"You two were doing so well on your own. I didn't want to screw with your momentum." Fury walked towards them; Bucky was at his side. "How you doing, Howard?"

"Oh, peachy," Howard said, his voice thick with tears. "How are you, you backstabbing motherfucking son a bitch?"

"I've had worse days." Fury rested his hands on his belt. "You gonna give me the Cube, Howard, or do I have to blast this mansion to rubble?"

Howard let out a sharp laugh and nudged Steve as if asking him to share in the joke. "You could drop a nuclear bomb on this place and you still wouldn't get any closer to getting the Cube. But I tell you what, Fury, I'll give you the Cube, but you gotta do a few things for me first." 

"Of course, Howard. Once I have the Cube—"

"No." Steve put an arm around Howard's waist. "We both know how you work, Fury. You want the Cube, you give Howard what he wants first."

Fury glared. "Cap, you don't want me as an enemy."

Steve didn’t want him as an ally either. "Take it or leave it." 

"I pinky swear promise I'll give it to you once our demands are met." Howard held up said pinky.

"Fine. Since we're such good friends."

Howard snorted. "With friends like these…"

"Well, you might wanna think about why it is that all your friends betray you. " Fury crossed his arms over his chest. "What are your demands?"

"Oh." Howard grinned. "I made a list."

*****

Steve watched from the sidelines as SHIELD hauled Stane and his men away. On the other side of the room, Howard was in a deep discussion with Fury; neither looked happy. Later, Steve would make sure that their demands were met, bur for now he'd let Howard take care of it. 

"He's crazy, you know." Bucky said, sidling up to him.

"Fury?" Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Your new boyfriend. I read his psych file, he wasn't exactly stable *before* Stane got a hold of him." 

Steve shrugged; he knew things were going to be rockier from this point on. "It's not really any of your business anymore."

"I'm still your friend." Bucky tentatively put a hand on his arm. "Aren't I?" 

"I don't know." Steve rubbed his mouth; his hand was shaking. "It hurts too much to be around you, Bucky. It… What happened in Afghanistan destroyed my life and I'm still staring at the rubble. "

"I could help you put your life back together, Steve."

"No, you can't." Steve pulled away. "I don’t want you to."

Bucky looked at Howard. "You want him to?"

"He knows what it feels like. He's staring at rubble too." 

"He's crazy." 

Steve straightened his shoulders and stared into Bucky's eyes. "Maybe I am, too. Goodbye, Bucky."

"You need me, you know where to find me." Bucky turned and Steve let him walk away.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and letting the exhaustion he'd been holding at bay wash over him. He didn't open his eyes again until he heard the sound of footsteps closing in on him. "Hey," he said, smiling at Howard.

"Hey." Howard smiled back, wrapping arms around Steve and leaning into him. "So, the medics want to admit me into the hospital for detox."

Steve gently rubbed Howard's back. "I think that's a good idea." 

"Are you coming with me?" 

"Where else would I be?" Steve asked.

"You and tall, dark, and handsome were having a deep conversation a little while ago." Howard shuddered. "Fury told me he was your ex." 

"Bucky is in a committed relationship with a woman who likes to shiv people who double-cross her. You're a much safer prospect." He kissed the top of Howard's hair.

"Well, that's a scary thought." Howard tightened his grip around Steve. "Promise you won't leave me alone in the hospital?"

Oh. Steve hugged Howard until he made a squeak of protest. "I promise." 

*****

Steve kept his promise until Maria Stark appeared in the doorway of the hospital room, her eyes red, clothing rumpled.

"Howard," she whispered softly, before rushing to his side and hugging him. "Howard!"

"Maria. Oh, God, Maria." Howard buried face her neck, but not before Steve saw the look of utter love on his face. 

He couldn't stay and watch them. It was too intimate. It wasn't his place. He stepped out into the corridor and tried to ignore the ache in his chest because of course Howard loved her. Maria was Howard's wife; they had a kid together. 

Of course they loved each other. 

Of course. 

Steve knew he should probably go get lunch or coffee or maybe walk around the block, give them time to talk. He knew they had a lot to say to one another. But he couldn’t find it in him to move.

He stood there, staring at his hands, trying to keep out of the way of the hospital personnel who walked by. He didn’t look up until the door opened and Maria came out.

"And you must be Steve." She held out her hand and he shook it.

"And you must be Maria." He forced himself to smile at her.

"Thank you for taking care of him. I…" She bit her bottom lip. "He's a hard man to love sometimes, but he's worth it."

"I know." Steve crossed his arm over his chest and looked away.

"Tell him that I'll come by tomorrow." Maria hesitated, then said, "It was nice meeting you."

Steve watched her disappear around the corridor before heading back into the hospital room. Howard was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes red. "How did it go?"

Howard sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We're getting a divorce."

"I'm sorry," Steve said, and he was. He could see how much it hurt Howard.

"Yeah." Howard shrugged. "I'll always love her Steve, but we've both moved on." He reached out to Steve. "I've moved on." 

Steve took his hand and squeezed it. "Everything's going to be okay now." 

"Yeah, maybe. There is one thing I want to talk to you about, though." Howard let out a nervous huff.

"What about?" Steve strokes Howard's knuckles with his thumb.

"The drugs they want to put me on to balance what the other drugs did to me." He swallowed hard and his breath came in short gasps. "I can't do it. Steve, I can't take them. I just can't! I don’t care what might happen if don't. I… Please don't make me!"

"Howard. Oh, no. Howard no!" Steve sat on the bed and cupped his face. "You don't want to take those meds, then don't. You don't ever have to take anything you don’t want to. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. You and me, together. I promise. Okay?"

Howard nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay. Yeah, okay."

"I see sevens in your eyes and infinity in your mouth." Steve leaned over and kissed him.

"Mmm." Howard smiled. "I'm giving Stark Industries to Tony. Let him wrangle the board."

"Are you sure? I mean… I thought…" Steve blinked in confusion.

"My reputation's shot. If I resumed my position as CEO, our stock would go down the crapper." Howard stroked his hair. "Besides, we have travel plans."

"We do, do we?" Steve gave him a skeptical look.

"Yeah." Howard swallowed hard. "I think we should go to Wakanda once everything's settled."

Steve blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, of course, for as long as you want."

"What if…" Howard lifted his chin and looked into Steve's eyes. "What if I don't ever want to come back?" 

Steve licked his lips and took Howard's hand in his. "Then we won't come back."

Howard smiled and tugged him down for a kiss.


End file.
